


Too Young to Burn

by ultraviolet_violet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice Is Actually A Good Mom, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betty’s An Innocent Ray Of Sunshine Caught In his Wrath 24/7, Character Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Jughead’s An Ass, Jughead’s Bi Although It’s Really Not That Important To The Plot, Mild Angst, Romance, Shameless Smut, That’s Super Important To The Plot (In The Beginning), Traveling, bughead - Freeform, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 103,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolet_violet/pseuds/ultraviolet_violet
Summary: Jughead: Loser, loner, freak. He's used to the names, he brought them onto himself. Part of him always considered changing, makenewnames for himself, but he would never get the chance. Not when he finds out what's been haunting him for the past month. So how do you reinvent yourself when your time left is minimal?Betty: Everyone's best friend, sun, perfect. The outside her was great, inside her had too many conflicts for her brain to process. Her best friends weren't really her friends, and it took her too long to realize the fact. They didn't care for her and had only hung around her because she hid the scent of how evil and disgusting they really were.Jughead needs to change himself. Betty needs to fix past mistakes. The two old friends reconcile, but not after she pushes him to the point where he can't say no. It's not always easy and most of the time, they want to give up. They want to go home and forget things that happened. But they don't. They don't stop and as Jughead ails, the relationship between the two of them becomes stronger than ever. A dangerous game, really, but neither want to stop playing.
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 34
Kudos: 140





	1. Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is the beginning to my new fic! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).
> 
> (I’m adding that Veronica and Kevin play very, very, very small parts in the very beginning of the fic. They are not main characters but I still tagged them.)

_October 15th_

Jughead squeezed his eyes closed, dropping his head into his hands as he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. The ringing in his head wouldn’t stop and he wanted to scream.

He groaned, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them. He breathed deeply, hoping the pain would go away.

 _No,_ he thought. _Not again. Not this again. Go away, go away, go away._

Almost as quickly as it began, the pain and ringing stopped and he was hurdled back into the silence of his room. He sighed, dropping his head back against his bed frame, his legs falling flat on his bed. 

“I can’t be going through this again,” he whispered to himself. 

_October 16th_

Betty spun as she walked down the sidewalk, skipping happily alongside her sister who was unamused. Betty was a morning person, Polly was not, everyone knew that and to others, it may be the only difference between the two sisters. They were compared often because they looked alike (though neither saw it). 

“Come on,” Betty groaned, pulling on her sister's arm. “Wake up. Enjoy the morning sun.” Polly gave her an uninterested look, putting in her earphones and walking away so she was far ahead of Betty. 

Betty huffed when she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. _Rude,_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. 

She hummed as she finished her walk to school, skipping past kids as she walked inside. After she walked the halls alone, Veronica caught up with her, Kevin following.

“Good morning,” Kevin said like a news broadcaster. “Today we have no news because oddly, nothing happened last night.” 

“Ah,” Veronica said and Betty glanced over at her. “Actually, I heard that…” Betty drowned them out as she watched Jughead Jones, someone she hadn’t talked to since elementary school, walk out of the counselors office. 

She had seen him escape out the door sheepishly multiple times that month and it intrigued her. She knew she had no right to question what he was doing, especially since she knew it most certainly didn’t concern her. 

His eyes met hers and he froze with his hand on the door handle. They held eye contact before he shook his head, wiping a hand over his face and stepping away from the door. He put his hood up as he turned away, Betty furrowing her brows in question. 

You didn’t go to the counselors office without reason. The only people who went there willingly or without a request from their parents or another teacher was nobody. The counselor just pushed people past to see how quickly she could get her job done. But maybe someone new was there, someone who listened. Or maybe he was being forced to go, like most kids were. Or he could just have to check in on something, that could always be the reason. 

Betty sighed, flinching a little when Kevin waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello?” he asked sassily. “Earth to Betty.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She said with a shake of her head, pushing his hand away. “I’m-I’m here, I’m listening.” Veronica gave her a questioning look and Betty huffed. “I swear! Keep talking.” 

“Okay, well, anyway…” Veronica continued on and Betty looked over the heads of the kids in the hall, searching for the stupid grey beanie that was constantly perched on Jughead’s head. 

~

The door opened and Betty sat up straight, smiling a little to herself when Jughead walked in. He passed a note to the teacher who nodded, pointing to an empty seat towards the back. 

He moved to it with his head held down and you could hear his feet shuffle across the floor. He slowly sunk down into the seat, adjusting his hat before he glanced over at her. 

She offered a smile and he ran eyes over her before looking towards the front of the room. She sighed, chewing her lip as she faced forward herself.

~

Betty smoothed the front of her shirt after she knocked on Jughead’s front door, waiting patiently for him to answer. She waited for a minute before she knocked softly again, chewing her lip nervously. 

_Maybe he’s not answering because he knows it’s me,_ she told herself. She had stared at him earlier, that gave him every reason _not_ to answer his door if he knew it was her. 

_One more time,_ she thought, knocking softly once again. The door was opened and he huffed. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, testing a small smile. “Hi.” 

“What are you here for?” he asked rudely, leaning against the door frame and keeping his body covered with the door. 

She sighed, shrugging. “I just…” She dug the toe of her shoe into his porch, weighing what she wanted to say in her head for a moment. “It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out and I just thought that maybe you could use a friend, you know.” 

He nodded, shrugging. “What, you think I’m alone?” 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” She scoffed, starting to wring her hands together. “Maybe we could go to Pops, catch up?” 

“Betty,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before holding her gaze as he said, “We haven’t talked since… fourth grade, maybe? Not since Veronica came here. What the hell do you want to talk about?” 

She looked up at him a little dumbfounded, his words stinging a little. “Just-Just-Just things.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Look, I’m-I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time-” 

“It’s always a bad time! Every time, it’s a-” he cut himself off, stepping back and rubbing both of his hands up his face and into his hair. She moved so she could peer inside the crack in his door. 

He took in a few deep breaths, scribbling something down on a notepad he had on his kitchen table. He set the pen down almost delicately, Betty stepping back when he walked over to the door. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his eyes showing remorse. “Can you give me five minutes?” 

She gave him a wide eyed look, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” she answered after a second. 

He clenched his jaw, closing the door. She watched the door for a moment before she nodded, stepping down off of his small porch and into the grass. She kicked a rock from his driveway around until she kicked it a little too hard, wincing when it hit the side of his trailer. 

When he didn’t come running out, she just decided to wait silently, staying still. She twisted in her small bubble before his door opened again and he stepped out. 

He stilled, looking at her directly as he said, “Before we go… go anywhere, I’m sorry for yelling.” She nodded and he huffed, walking over to her. “It happens sometimes, I get mad, and, um, I-I just can't control it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re okay,” she muttered with a reassuring smile. “I get it. You’re all good.” 

~

Jughead watched Betty with furrowed brows and she pushed her milkshake away. “What?” she asked nervously, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. 

He shook his head, looking down at his hands. “Nothing, I’m sorry.” 

She nodded, flushing a little before inhaling sharply. She folded her hands on the table, straightening before she asked, “What have you been up to?” 

He gave her a blank look, shrugging before going back to looking at his hands. 

“Okay,” she sighed. “Um… how's your dad?” 

He shrugged again, not looking up as he answered, “Dead.” 

Her eyes widened slightly at how easily he said it but she nodded. “Um, your mom?” He shrugged. “Your sister?” He shrugged again and she sighed. “Can you actually talk to me… please?” 

He huffed, placing his hands in his lap and leaning back in his seat. “There’s nothing to tell—not you.” 

“Jug, just because we haven’t been friends-” 

“You do realize, you have to…” he cut himself off with a sigh, leaning forward. “You do realize you can’t just walk into my life like this, not right now. You’re either here and you’re going to stay, or you're here and I’ll never see you again.” She looked down at her hands, wondering where this abrasiveness was coming from.

“Which one is it? If you choose the latter, you’re done. You leave me alone. If it’s the first option… you gotta work with me. You gotta deal with me, you can’t change me. I know you love doing that.” She looked up at him with furrowed brows. “You love working on people, but I can’t be changed; I can’t be worked on. So if it’s the first option, you take all the shit that comes with it.” 

She blinked at him, swallowing thickly before she whispered, “You weren’t like this in third grade.” 

“Because I was eight years-old,” he said incredulously with a scoff. “Do you know how much shit has changed in ten years?” She looked back down at her hands almost shamefully. “I’m sorry. God,” he groaned. 

He dropped his head into his hands, resting his chin on his fists a moment later. Betty watched him as he stared out the window, his eyes slowly following a car that was going by. 

“How’s your sister?” he asked in a hushed voice after a few moments passed. 

“Polly’s okay,” she said quietly, watching him closely. “She’s been better. She’s-She’s upset about her and Jason, but that’s it.” He nodded, straightening and looking directly at her. “My parents are… okay, too. They're still really protective, but they’ve gotten better. I’ve gotten better,” 

He nodded, watching his hands again. “That’s good.” he mumbled and she nodded. “So, you and your little posy, you hang out often?” 

She shrugged. “Kinda. It-It depends. Veronica and Kev don’t always get along, not lately. They’re going after the same guy and it’s hectic, so I stay away. Veronica is also really aggressive sometimes, she doesn’t realize it when she does it. She doesn’t hurt anyone… like, physically-” 

“What do you guys say about me?” He cut her off and she froze when he looked up at her. “I know you three talk about me, I’m not dumb. The whole school talks about me, I talk about me. I miss school too much, my dad’s dead, my mom’s gone, my sister disappeared. There’s a lot to talk about, honestly.” She looked away from him in defeat and he sighed. “Tell me. Please,” he croaked out softly, his look questioning and scared. 

She looked back at him, her eyes softening. “Sometimes… sometimes the word freak is, um, thrown around. Crazy, psychotic, mentally insane.” He nodded, chewing the inside of his lip when he looked back out the window. “People are… afraid of you, Jug. You-You threatened people, you hurt people.” 

“That was two years ago.” 

“And?” She asked, straightening. “Archie could have died, you’re lucky… you’re lucky he didn’t press charges.” He nodded, his jaw tightening. She watched him for a minute, taking in the guarded look in his eyes before she asked, “What made you act like that?” 

He gave her a wide-eyed look and she bit her lip. “What do you mean?” he asked with a short exhale.

“I knew you, Jug. Even after we stopped talking, I still knew who you were. And-And I saw you enough in class and in the halls to know when you hurt him, that wasn’t you.” He furrowed his brows in question and she sighed. “What happened?” 

“He just pissed me off.” 

“He did, but that’s not the whole truth.” He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “Someone doesn’t just… piss you off then you try to… then you choke them like that. No normal person, at least.” 

“Well,” he shrugged, standing up out of the booth. “I’m not a normal person.” 

“Jug, that’s not what I mean.” 

He shook his head, pulling his jacket on. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She furrowed her brows, shaking her head as she said, “Jug.” 

She turned in her seat as she watched him walk out of the diner, groaning and facing the empty booth seat across from her with a huff. 

_October 17th_

Jughead fixed his hat over his head as he walked into the school, avoiding Betty’s eyes as she traced him down the hallway. He could feel her gaze on him and it almost made him itch. He felt like she knew and he didn’t want her to know, not yet. He didn’t want anyone to know, but he’d have to tell someone at some point. 

He inhaled sharply when he felt a hand squeeze his arm lightly. He glanced over at Betty who raised her brows at him as she whispered, “You just left me yesterday, I wasn’t done talking to you.” 

He looked over her head at Veronica and Kevin who trailed behind close by as if they were protecting her. 

He looked back down at her when they stopped and her look was upset. He sighed, looking over her head again before he glanced back at her. “I had things I needed to do, okay?” he said sternly. 

She furrowed her brows, shaking her head. “No, you stormed out of there and wouldn’t let me finish talking.” 

“Actually,” he said pointedly, swallowing thickly at Veronica and Kevin’s pointed looks. “I _did_ let you finish, if I remember correctly—and I know I did because I know my memory is still intact.” She gave him a weird look and he huffed. 

“Look,” he started with a sigh. “I just didn’t want to listen to you downgrade me for something I had zero control over.” He looked over her head, clenching his jaw as Veronica and Kevin started to watch him closely. “I apologized, I paid my part, I—Jesus Christ, can you tell your fucking watch dogs to stand down? Fuck.” Betty turned around quickly, giving each of them dirty looks. 

“Look, Jug-” She cut herself off when she saw the empty spot in front of her, sighing. She looked back over her shoulder at her friends, rolling her eyes at their sorry looks. 

~

Betty set her tray down next to Jughead and he gave her an unimpressed look. “Look,” she started with all the confidence she could muster. “Whine all you want but you said that if I wasn’t in for everything—which I am—then we can’t be friends. I’m showing you that I’m here for the fucking long-haul and all you’re doing is being as asshole to me! So move your goddamn bag and let me sit.” 

He watched her for a moment before he picked up his book bag, setting it on the ground beside himself. “Just scream it out for the whole school to hear.” he muttered angrily. 

He put his headphones up, inhaling deeply when she pulled them off and giving her an annoyed look. “Listen,” he started. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re here all of a sudden, but it doesn’t give you the right to be shoving yourself onto me like this.” 

“Well, fuck, Jughead.” she said, frustrated. “You want me to sit around and wait for _you_ to start doing shit? Wait for you to put in an effort to actually become friends again?” 

He swallowed thickly, huffing. “I have a lot of shit going on right now-”

“And I want to help!” He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his head in his hands and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

_Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!_ he yelled in his head. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to the ringing in his head or to Betty. 

“Whatever you’re going through,” she began, her voice much softer than before. “I know you shouldn’t be going through it alone. Just because everyone put you under these stereotypes—and even if more than I like to admit, I joined in on them—doesn’t mean that they define who you are. Jug, I know deep down you are the most caring person I know and I want that back in my life. Is that so much to ask?” 

He sighed, willing his headache to go away. His head was screaming and he knew he needed to find somewhere quiet to hide, but he couldn’t leave her—not again. 

She watched him with furrowed brows, getting closer to him and whispering, “Jug, are you okay?”

He straightened, standing up. “I can’t-I can’t be here. I’m sorry, Betty. This isn’t your fault,” he grunted out the words, pinching the bridge of his nose as he left the crowded lunchroom and hurried to the counselors office. 

He relished in the silence of the room, even if his headache was still present, the quiet helped some. 

“You okay?” Mrs. Burble asked, cutting through the silence. Jughead straightened from where he was basically doubled-over by the door, shaking his head. “Do you want to go home, finish the day there?”

“I-I don’t…” he sighed when he saw the knowing look on her face, nodding. “Yes, please.” 

Mrs. Burble nodded, opening her computer. “Go on. I’ll collect your work from the rest of your teachers and email it to you.” He nodded, sighing again. “Forsythe,” he cringed a little at the name but turned to face her, freezing with his hand waiting on the door handle. 

Her glasses were down and she was peering over them, and he knew what she was about to say was serious. “Get your head checked out. You know what happened the last time you got these migraines.” He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes closed. “It’s the pains that come with adulthood, young man.” 

He nodded, adjusting his hat over his head. “See you tomorrow, Mrs. Burble.” She nodded to him as he left, Jughead tucking his hands in his pockets as he felt anxiety begin to dig itself a hole in his stomach. 

~

Jughead moved to his door at the sound of a knock, inhaling sharply at Betty waiting. “Are you okay?” she asked quickly, her eyes sincere and waiting. 

“Um,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can you-Can you give me… a minute, please?” She nodded, stepping back when he closed the door. “God, fuck.” 

He scrambled around the living room, picking up everything he had lying around. He shoved them back into their folder, groaning silently as he moved to his bedroom and dropped them in a heap on his desk. He slammed his door closed, grabbing his beanie off of his kitchen table and shoving it over his head before walking back to the front door. 

He collected himself before he opened it and Betty’s look didn't change from minutes ago. “You are okay, right? I mean, you just kinda disappeared after our lunch period and I just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you, Jug.” 

He sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, I’m-I’m fine.” he assured. He wasn’t sure who he was reassuring—was it himself or her? “I just got this really bad migraine all of a sudden, I went home and finished my work here.” 

She nodded, peering over his shoulder. She started to wring her hands together, slowly lowering back down from where she was standing on her tiptoes. “Can I come in?” she asked softly, pointing blindly over his head. 

He winced soundlessly, looking behind himself. “Um, I mean, yeah, I guess. If-If that’s what you, uh, want to do.” He stepped back and held the door open wider, Betty giving him a small smile as she walked inside. 

He could feel his blood pumping through his body as she looked around and waited for the cringe or for her to ask to leave. 

In elementary school, she rarely came over—and if she did, she stayed outside. His mom and dad never allowed her to come inside and he understood why, but it just made this moment now, years later, even more nerve wracking for him. Not to mention his own eyes were scanning the place for anything he hadn’t picked up. 

“You should open your curtains,” was the first thing she muttered. 

She stepped over to the couch, opening the curtains behind it and stepping over to the window on the wall beside it, slowly opening those ones. She stepped back after a moment, smiling as she twirled to face him. 

“Much better,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t interrupt you or anything, did I?” she asked as she peeled off her coat and kicked off her shoes. She was acting like she had been there a thousand times and it made him feel unnerved. 

She looked over her shoulder at him and he shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets so he would stop fidgeting with his hat. 

“Good,” she nodded with a smile. 

He watched as she moved around the kitchen and he cleared his throat, stuttering out, “Did you-Did you come from-from school or…?” 

“Mnh-mnh,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I went home, dropped off my things, then I came here to check on you.” She gave him a grin and he felt like he was a kid again watching DCFS check out the trailer but trying to hide that they were doing so. 

They never hid that fact very well. They carried around a clipboard for crying out loud, and Jughead wasn’t a dumb kid. He knew what his parents would do. 

“So, you had a headache.” She looked up at him with wide eyes and he nodded. “Is that why you had your head down? It wasn’t because I was annoying you? Or did I give you the headache?” She gasped. “Did _I_ give you a headache?” 

“No, Betty,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that, you did nothing wrong. I just… it had nothing to do with you.” She looked uncertain as she narrowed her eyes slightly and he huffed. “Betty, I’m serious. I would know if you gave me a headache, trust me.” 

She sighed after a minute, turning to face his cupboards. “Do you have stuff to make cookies? I want to make cookies.” 

He clenched his jaw, wanting her to leave. “No, probably not,” he muttered, his fists clenching in his pockets as he squinted his eyes, trying to focus on Betty through the mess his vision had become. 

She hummed. “I’ll be back.” She pulled on her coat and slipped into her shoes, leaving the trailer in a flash. 

He sighed at the silence that followed, squeezing his eyes closed. He rubbed his eyes, hoping it’d stop the blurriness that was suddenly plaguing him. 

~

Betty moved swiftly around the small kitchen, whisking things together and plopping those things onto a pan. Jughead watched her as he sat in a chair at the kitchen table. 

Part of him screamed to kick her out, scare her away. But the other part of him swooned to hold her, kiss her, thank her for whatever the fuck she was doing. He was divided (or more so conflicted), and it pissed him off. 

He wanted her far, far away. 

He wanted her right there at his disposal, ready to be used at any moment. 

He wanted to keep her hidden from what could be growing in his head, from what could shake both of their lives into a fury. He may not be able to live with the diagnosis when he got it—he didn’t have money to do so. 

Why had she come back now? So suddenly, so abruptly. There was no reason for her to come back into his life, he didn’t _need_ friends. They would all be disappointed in the end and he couldn’t change that, so it was easier to just shove them away. 

He wasn’t even sure why they had stopped being friends in the first place. He couldn’t really remember. 

All he could think of was Veronica coming into class one day and swooping Kevin and Betty away. One day, the three of them were friends. The next day, Jughead was exiled and pushed to the background. 

Slowly, him and Betty stopped talking completely and they just became peers. They would see each other in class, then in the halls, and that was it. He was _okay_ with that. He’s not okay with her showing up just when he probably needed her most—he hated it and he didn’t want to admit it. 

“Okay,” Betty sighed, cleaning her hands before sitting across from him at the table. “They should be done soon.” 

“I didn’t ask you to do all of that.” The smell of them baking was heavenly but also sickening. 

“I know,” she responded softly, shrugging as she looked at her hands. “I wanted to. Is that okay?” He nodded when she glanced at him and he sighed deeply. “Are you going to be at school tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled with annoyance laced through his tone. He was exhausted, and his appetite from earlier was gone. He didn’t want cookies. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She shrugged sadly and he felt a sting and a twist in his chest. She was trying to be nice, trying to talk to him, and all he was doing was being a dick. “When did your dad pass?” He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

Her eyes were large, gleaming and questioning and fuck, he could get lost in them all day. She was also pouting without realizing it and his sudden sexual attraction to her only grew and he hated himself for it. 

He shrugged, sighing again. “About… five-ish months ago.”

She nodded, twisting her lips for a moment. “How?” 

“Overdose,” he answered quickly. She tried to hide her shudder and he felt sick for how easily he said the word. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I-I wasn’t home when it happened. He was supposed to be getting clean, he was going to go to rehab the week after. He just… he drowned, pretty much. I’ll spare you the details.” 

She swallowed thickly, the happy glint in her eyes now gone. “You… you found him…?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I came home from work and he was just… there. He was kind of gurgling but…” he shrugged, and she shuddered. “Really, you didn’t want to be there.” 

“Did you have a funeral for him?” Jughead cringed, shaking his head. “Why not?” 

“Why… would I?” She furrowed her brows and he realized she had never been around his dad—she had only met him one time and that one time, he was high. “Betty, he was a shitty person. I needed shit—it was important shit—and he took the money to buy drugs so I suffered. He beat me, my mom, my sister—you don’t celebrate someone like that. I scattered his ashes, I didn’t want him.” 

“Won’t you… regret doing that?” He sucked his teeth, giving her an uninterested look. “I’m just asking, Jug.” 

“No, I won’t,” was all he offered. 

She sighed, nodding and looking above his head and out the window that was there. 

They were silent until the oven went off and she was up and out of her seat quickly. Jughead didn’t mean to be such an ass, he was just trying to understand what the hell was going on in his head. He barely knew her and now all he wanted was _her_. But he wanted her naked in his bed and screaming out his name. 

He huffed quietly, wiping a hand over his face as she turned to face him happily. “They’re done,” she stated with a sheepish smile. 

He couldn’t fight the small smile that started to crack his face as he nodded. “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

Her smile switched from tentative to proud in a heartbeat and her whole face lit up. “You’re welcome,” she giggled. She turned back to the cookies, carefully taking them off of the pan and placing them on a plate. 

When she finished, she sighed deeply, smoothing her hands over her pants. “I should go home,” she started in a whisper, turning around. “Just so my parents don’t start to worry.” She stepped over to her jacket and pulled it on, slipping into her shoes. “Thanks for letting me take over your kitchen.” 

He chuckled and his heart soared at her smile. She visibly wanted to see him happy. “You’re welcome, Betts.” She bit her lip as her smile grew larger, nodding a little. “Do you want me to walk you home?” 

“No, I’ll be alright.” He nodded and she sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Jug.” 

“Bye, Betts.” She left the trailer with a happy skip and he shook his head incredulously, chuckling to himself. 

_October 18th_

Betty hurried to Jughead’s side, grinning up at him. “I would have found you earlier today,” she started hastily, linking her arm through his. He cringed a little, going slightly wide eyed. “But then Veronica and Kevin started talking about something—I honestly couldn’t even tell you what it was—and I just kind of ran off to my class and I didn’t see you at lunch.” She looked up at him with a questioning look and furrowed brows. “Why weren’t you at lunch?” 

He shrugged, fighting to pull her arm away. Her closeness awoke something inside him and he wasn’t sure if he could control it. “I don’t know,” he responded sheepishly, focusing on the sidewalk as they walked out of the school rather than her wide, questioning eyes. “I didn’t want to eat in the cafeteria. It’s too loud, there’s too many people.” 

“It’s the cafeteria, Jug,” she laughed. “Can’t really keep it quiet.” He shrugged, finally glancing at her. She grinned, giggling. 

He stared at her, taking in her expression. She was so happy all the time, how was she always so happy? 

“How was your day?” she asked giddily. 

“The normal.” She frowned at his answer and he chuckled. “My day isn’t special. Just headaches and, well, school.” 

“What are you gonna do when you go home?” 

He swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw when he looked at her. His eyes went wide and he stuttered over what to say in his head. “I-I… I don’t… I don’t know,” he finally croaked after a moment. He tried to hide the almost frightened look on his face, but he wasn’t sure if he was doing so at all. 

“Well,” she mumbled as she traced her finger over his arm. He swallowed thickly at the action, feeling goosebumps cover his arm. “If you’re not busy, would you mind going to the bookstore with me? I wanted to pick up a few books because I’m not a fan of the ones at school. I’ve also read all of my books at home so…” she shrugged, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Will you come?” 

He gulped, glancing away from her quickly. “Um,” he muttered, shrugging slightly. “S-Sure. Yeah, I-I could go with you.”

She grinned happily, clapping tinily. “Thank you!” She skipped ahead of him with a happy squeal and he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. 

~

Jughead keened a little at the smell of coffee that flooded his senses as they stepped into the bookstore, but Betty grasped his hand and tugged him away. He wanted to protest, he wanted coffee, but he kept silent. They were there for her books, not to feed his caffeine addiction he was trying to get rid of. 

She dropped his arm after they moved down an aisle and she began tracing her hands over the spines of the books. He wasn’t sure if she was looking for a specific one, but she seemed very captured by every book that they had to offer. 

He wanted to take a picture of the moment, of the content look on her face. He wasn’t a photographer by no means, but he felt it would be a memorable shot that he would cradle, that he would think about often. He knew he would frame it for sure, he just didn’t know _why_ he wanted to do something like this. He didn’t know anymore about Betty from third grade and he barely remembered that version of her. This version of her, he knew nothing about. 

He normally hated that, he wanted to know every detail about someone that he could find, but with Betty, he wanted her to unravel every piece of herself and show him every detail. He wanted her to do it without him having to drain it out of her or without having to scour her Instagram. 

He wanted to run away with her and he wanted her to become his family.

Betty Cooper was a stranger—the most unforgettable stranger he knew. He knew he was attracted to her, he thinks he has been since he was young, since he had seen her laugh bubbly in a class in middle school. But he never thought he would have to actually fess up to those feelings or face them head on. He just thought they would be that thing that silently brews in your head until you get tired of them so you crush them. 

“Ooh!” she said excitedly, stopping his thoughts. She kneeled down on the floor, plucking the book off the shelf and turning it to the back. A smile grew across her face as she read the back and she nodded. “This is the one I really wanted,” she whispered. “Do you want a book?” 

She raised a brow as she looked up at him and he gave her a questioning look. “What, am I your… charity case or something?” 

“No,” she assured with an incredulous look. “Jug, we’re friends because I want to be friends. I’m just asking… you don’t have to be such a crab.” She sounded hurt and he clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes at himself as she turned away.

 _Idiot,_ he seethed in his head. _Jesus Christ. Is it gonna kill you to be nice to her for longer than five minutes?_

If he was an onlooker, he’d punch himself until he got some sense knocked into his crowded skull. He needed to ignore the inevitable. 

“I’m gonna head over there,” she pointed to another aisle and he nodded. “Stay back and cool off.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile and he sighed as he watched her walk away. 

He scanned the shelf full of books, cursing himself. It wouldn’t hurt to be nicer to her, she didn’t deserve the strain of negativity he was placing on her. She was kind and bubbly and like a flower. He was like a dark storm nobody wanted to happen. He would come in, cause havoc, then leave like nothing happened. 

He wanted to be different and he was trying to be. He may have told her just a few days earlier that she couldn’t change him, that she couldn’t make him better, although deep down, he was secretly hoping that she _could_. 

He was tired of being the asshole, the freak, the outsider. He just wanted to be _him_. He wanted to be seen as a person, somebody who has feelings and who has a working brain. Being the talk of the school was not everything people swore it was. Most of the time, it was painful and everyone thinking they knew your business was frustrating. 

Jughead’s eyes focused on a book and he furrowed his brows, slowly leaning closer towards it. He squeezed his eyes at the haze of blurriness that shined over them, breathing deeply before opening them again. It was gone as quick as it had come and he plucked the book off of the shelf. 

He ran his eyes over the cover, tracing his finger over the title. _The Waves_. He had heard of it, he just wasn’t sure where. It seemed good, he guessed, but he needed something to focus on so maybe a book was what he needed. 

~

Betty and Jughead met at the cash register and she smiled a little, looking from the book in his hand up to his face. “You got a book,” she whispered with a smile. He glanced at his hands, nodding bashfully. “Don’t blush too hard,” she giggled, pinching his cheek gently before she moved to the open register. 

Jughead scrunched up his face, feeling the flush that had covered him from his ears to his chest. He wasn’t sure why he was so coy, but he didn’t hate it. That was a first. 

He stepped up to the next open register, thanking the older woman when she had finished ringing him up and had placed his book delicately in his hands. He was sure if he had time, he would have stayed behind and let her give the “Books are a luxury” speech he was sure she had. He had one too, most book readers did. 

Betty waited for him outside of the shop, giving him a smile. She had either pushed away his outburst from earlier or she had forgotten about it. 

“So,” she started, trying to peer at his book but frowning when he pulled it away. “I wanna know what it’s called.” 

“The Waves.” 

She nodded, digging the toe of her shoe into the ground. He wondered how often she did that and how her shoes weren’t more worn from doing so. “Who’s it by?” she questioned softly. 

“Virginia Woolf.” 

“Ooh,” she squealed excitedly. “She’s supposed to be really good!” 

“Yeah, that’s-that’s what I’ve heard,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck while they waited for the city bus to come. “Have you… read anything that she’s written?” 

She shook her head, sighing. “No, but I’ve been thinking about maybe checking her out. When you finish, do you mind telling me how you like it?” 

A smile fought to rise to his face as he shook his head. “Uh, no. I-I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Thank you,” she muttered. He opened his mouth to speak but he was too caught up in her bright smile to say anything. So he clamped it shut, nodding instead. She giggled, “You’re weird.” His heart sunk before she looked over at him, her smile tiny and her eyes narrowed in adoration. “It’s cute.” 

It felt as if the universe had aligned at that very moment. _She thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute. She thinks I’m cute,_ he repeated over and over in his head. 

He chuckled nervously, letting out a breath and swallowing thickly. She thinks he’s a cute weird, not scared weird, and that was enough comfort for him to last a lifetime. He felt as if he finally belonged, as if someone finally cared. 

Someone finally cares. 

_October 20th_

Jughead gave Betty a happy smile as she sat down next to him at lunch and the look warmed her heart. She did that, she caused that look. 

“Hello to you too,” she giggled as she sat, trying to fight off the awkwardness that she wanted to bring to the table with a blush. 

He let out a boyish laugh and she melted. She was putty in his hands, he could do whatever he wanted to her and she would thank him for it. 

“Good day?” she asked as she took a small bite from the apple she had. 

He shrugged, muttering, “I guess so, yeah.” He nodded, grinning. “You?” 

“Better now.” He hid his face and she could see his neck turn red. Jughead obviously couldn’t take a compliment and it was her favorite thing. She found it adorable. 

She had grown up with far too many compliments (though none probably meant anything) and she had learned to ignore them, they all became annoying mantras she was tired of hearing. But she could tell, just from the way Jughead reacted, he wasn’t complimented often. More so, he was put down and demeaned basically all of middle school and most of high school. She hated how people treated him and she blamed herself for why they did so. 

She had had a part in starting the rumor that he was crazy, and she would take accountability for it when it came up. She told Veronica something she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone and the secret spread _fast_. It was throughout the whole school in less than 18 hours and it made Betty sick. She couldn’t imagine how Jughead must have felt. 

Telling Veronica Jughead’s secrets was wrong on so many levels and she was trying to correct her mistakes. Plus, she missed Jughead’s company. He had always been a nice shoulder to cry on and she remembered him giving the best hugs. She wondered if he still gave good hugs, and she was certain he did. 

Sometimes, she had to fight herself from kissing his cheek or giving him a big squeeze. Her love language was physical touch and words of affirmation, she couldn’t stop it. The two things came in handy, but they spewed off of her like a bad perfume. 

Jughead cleared his throat, tucking the book he was reading in his bag.“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked nervously, glancing at her quickly. 

“Oh. I’m not sure yet.” She frowned a little, sighing. “I’m sure it’s nothing, though. If my mom had something planned, she would tell me for sure. So wouldn’t Polly.” She set her apple down on her tray, furrowing her brows in question. “Why are you asking?” 

“Um,” he shrugged, wincing silently and adjusting his beanie. “No-No reason. I just, um…” he shrugged again. “I-I don’t know.” 

“Why don’t we have, like, a movie binge?” 

“What?” he croaked out almost in shock. 

She laughed tinily, rolling her eyes jokingly as she shrugged. “You know, like…” she clicked her tongue, sighing. “It’s October and it’s almost Halloween, and I haven’t done much… Halloween stuff.” He furrowed his brows, wincing silently in confusion. “You don’t watch Halloween movies? Like, _Hocus Pocus_?” 

He shook his head, mumbling, “No.” 

“Awe,” she pouted a little biting her lip. “Jug. We’re having a movie weekend, only Halloween themed movies allowed. And you obviously don’t decorate your trailer, so we’ll do that, too.” 

“No,” he said quickly with a shake of his head, “we don’t have to do that.” 

“Yes,” she drawed out. “We do. It’ll be fun, I promise.” He sighed, huffing. “I’m surprised you don’t like Halloween anymore. You loved it when you were younger,”

He shrugged. “I was a kid then,” he commented. 

“You know, when you turn 18, you don’t automatically hate holidays. Plus, you could do a trick-or-treat think for the kids in you trailer pa-”

“Can we not talk about that?” he interrupted with a nervous look. 

She nodded, sighing. “Yeah, sorry. I just… yeah. So, this weekend? I can come over?” 

“C-Can I get back to you on it?” 

She wanted to scream, but she smiled instead. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He fell silent beside her, pulling his book back out and reading until the bell rang. What had made him react that way? 

~

Jughead was set on walking home, his headphones on and his hands tucked protectively in his pockets. He wanted to go home, take a nap and avoid Betty. It wasn’t because he didn’t want her around, he just… didn’t want her around. 

But she had run in front of him with a persuasive smile, making him pause his step with a long sigh and a look of disappointment. 

“Sorry,” she began in a hushed tone of voice as she also started to wring her hands together. He started to walk away and she followed close behind. “Could you please take off your headphones?” 

“Nothing’s playing in them,” he answered, staring at the trees that they passed. 

“Okay,” she sighed. “So, um, have you thought about this weekend at all? I mean, it’s fine if you haven’t, I would understand.” 

He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I haven’t actually, sorry.” 

She sighed, deflating slightly. “So you’re-you’re not free or you just… don’t want to do it?” 

“No,” he scoffed, shaking his head again. “It… it’s not… I…” he sighed, cutting off his babble. He rubbed a hand over his face, taking his headphones off and placing them around his neck. He couldn’t focus with the music going, even if he had said there was nothing playing in them. 

“Betts,” he sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to do it because it sounds fun, I just don’t really celebrate Halloween like you—I don’t celebrate any holiday like you do. I don’t… I don’t like these things anymore, you know? Too much shit has happened, they’re all tainted memories, not like they were good in the first place, but still.” 

“But Jug, that’s the thing,” she said excitedly. He furrowed his brows when he gave her a glance, obviously lost. “You can make new memories. That’s the fun thing about our brains, you know.” 

He chuckled coldly. “Brains are great.” 

She rolled her eyes in exasperation, linking her arm through his and leaning into his side. His warmth was nice and he didn’t ever want her to move, but neither of them would admit such a thing. 

She grinned, gasping. She moved in front of him again, gripping his shoulders to stop him. “I have _the_ perfect idea!” Her smile was huge and it made him excited. He wasn’t sure when the last time he got excited was. 

“Okay, so,” she said with a deep inhale, continuing. “Me and you can dress up-” he cut her off with a cringe and she shook her head. “Just listen.” He chuckled a little and she giggled, moving back to his side like she had before. “Me and you can dress up and you can help me pass out candy at my house, since you won’t do it at yours.” 

“You want me to pass out candy?” 

“Yes!” she laughed. “Jug, it’s _fun_. And seeing everyone’s costumes is cool, too. Especially when they’re little babies and it’s their first Halloween ever.” She squealed in enjoyment, clapping her hands. “We have to figure out who—or what—we’re gonna be! Oh, we gotta make a detour.” 

She grabbed his hand, thoughtlessly lacing their fingers together and tugging him down the next street. He let her pull him all the way to her house, just content with being in her presence. 

He wanted to laugh because just a few minutes ago, the thought of Betty honestly made him sick. But being with her now and seeing how utterly happy she was just made everything better. It made what could lie ahead just a little less worse. 

Betty struggled to unlock her door for a moment, eventually getting it with a scoff and a groan. She pushed open the door and suddenly Jughead was hit with the smell of pumpkin pie and holy fuck did he want some. Although, it was just a candle much to his disappointment and when he wanted to eat (which, at the moment, was rare) he needed to eat. 

“Betts,” he started, embarrassed. “You don’t think we could get a snack or-or something.” 

“You know what,” she said, dropping his hand and walking into the kitchen. “I was just thinking that. You didn’t eat much at lunch today and usually, you inhale your food. Sandwiches okay?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels. “That’s good.” 

She gave him a grin, starting to pull out everything for sandwiches while she hummed to herself. There was a huff that came from down the hall and Jughead realized they weren’t home alone (and the candle should have given that away because Jughead knew Betty would never leave a candle burning while being away from home. Even if she was just stepping outside, she would put something burning out).

Alice, her mom, came clutizily moving through the hall with a laundry basket in her hands with clothes spilling from it. She sighed, brushing hair off her face and giving Betty a smile. She glanced at Jughead, giving him a wide-eyed nod.

“Long time, no see,” she stated as she rested the laundry basket on the counter.

He nodded, fixing his hat. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Where’ve you been, what have you been up to?” Jughead swallowed thickly, shrugging as he stuttered over what to say in his head. He looked panicked and Betty caught wind of it when she glanced up from the third sandwich she had made. 

She sighed, giving her mom a pointed look. “Can we ask him something else?” 

Her mother frowned, picking the laundry basket back up. “I’m busy anyway. Tell your father I said hi.” 

“He’s dead,” he blurted quickly, clenching his jaw. 

Betty looked from him to her mom who’s eyes were now wide with shock rather than confusion. 

Alice nodded, whispering, “Oh.” She adjusted the basket on her hip, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile and nod, letting out a silent deep breath as she walked away. 

“Yeah, so my mom doesn't know anything about you and I hanging out again.” She huffed and he just looked behind his shoulder nervously. “Sorry about that. She didn’t mean to ask about your dad, she didn’t know.”

“No,” he shook his head, looking back to Betty. “I don’t care about talking about my dad. I just… feel like she doesn’t like me.” 

“Oh. Um, my mom knows nothing about that outburst. Not unless Polly said something and I doubt she did, so…” Betty gave him a smile, shrugging. She sighed, picking up the three sandwiches. “I made you three, is that too much?” 

“No, it’s good. Really.” He took them with a smile, grateful food didn’t make him feel like he was going to throw up everything from a week prior. 

She nodded, turning. “Okay, follow me. The house hasn’t changed in ten years but…” she waved her hand a little, sighing. “My room’s still pink and yellow and flowers so… don’t laugh.” He chuckled a little and she narrowed her eyes. “I mean it.”

She pushed open the door to her room and he felt like a kid again, racing into her room to tell her Jellybean and his mom were gone, and breaking down on her bed. 

He could remember everything like it was yesterday and if he was blindfolded, he would be able to move around her room seamlessly without bumping a thing. He liked it there. It was safe there.

He took in the scattering of Halloween and fall decorations that clashed with her normal decor and smiled. You could tell she wanted to decorate much more than she was allowed just by the way she had the items set up alone. 

She dropped her bag on the floor next to her desk, grabbing a clip and pinning her hair back. “Could you close the door?” she asked over her shoulder, leaning over and looking through her desk drawer. When he was finished closing the door soundlessly, she had a notebook and pen in her hand. She skipped over to the bed, sitting down and laughing. 

“Jug,” she said in an almost teasing voice. “You can take your stuff off. I’m not gonna make you pay for it to get it back.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He set his probably-too-large stack of sandwiches on her desk before he peeled off his coat, draping it over the back of her desk chair and setting his bag on the floor next to her own. He picked his sandwiches back up, feeling nervous when he caught her questioning gaze after he turned to face her.

She gave him an almost sad look, her face softening as she asked, “Are you okay?” Her voice was careful and sweet, showing her concern. 

He shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” 

“You can go if you want. I mean, I know my mom-” 

“No, Betts.” he said with a shake of his head, giving her a smile to soften the blow of interrupting her. “I’m okay, really.” 

“You swear?” she questioned, her eyebrow raising partially. He nodded. “You’d tell me if you weren’t?” He nodded again, not really sure how to respond because he didn’t even know if he’d tell himself if he wasn’t okay. He’d worry too much about it.

She watched him for a minute with pursed lips and furrowed brows, sighing. “Fine,” she huffed, her smile coming back as she moved over a little on the bed. “Come sit.” 

She patted the now-empty spot beside her and he moved over to it, slowly lowering himself to sit next to her. She moved into his side and he could smell her shampoo (lavender mixed with vanilla, maybe) and he swore this was what heaven would be like. 

“So, what are we thinking for costumes? We should match because it makes the kids super happy when we’re matching—I know from experience.” He shrugged, his eyes questioning as he bit into the sandwich. “You have to have some idea.” 

“No,” he said around a mouthful and she grinned, wiping the corner of his mouth. She sucked the tip of her thumb into her mouth to get the jelly off of it and he thinks he may have fallen in love right there. 

His saliva felt like sludge and the sandwich he had already finished felt like a brick in his stomach. He felt like every cliche in a teen coming-of-age movie. 

“Since you have no ideas, then we are going with a Disney theme.” He groaned and she shook her head, tsking at him. “Nope, you’re not allowed to complain. I have you a chance to give me ideas and you blew it.” He huffed, agreeing silently. 

“Who are you thinking?” he asked, slightly disgruntled. 

She looked over at him, humming as she ran her eyes over his face. “ _Tangled_.” 

He furrowed his brows, mumbling, “What?” 

Her jaw slacked and she looked at him like he had three heads. “What do you mean what? Have you never watched _Tangled_ before?” He shook his head, feeling dumb. She gasped, placing her hand over her chest and falling back into her pillows dramatically like she had been shot. 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Should I have watched _Tangled_?” 

“Uh, yes!” she exclaimed, sitting up. “Jug, _Tangled_ is one of _the best_ Disney princess movies.” 

“Well, I don’t watch Disney princess movies, like, ever.” 

“Then you need to start.” He bit back his laugh that wanted to come out and he just grinned at her instead. “Now we have to watch _Tangled_ along with all of our other Halloween movies that I must introduce you to.”

He laughed, sighing out, “Fine.”

She smiled wide, setting her notebook aside. “So,” she sighed. “You’ll be Eugene-”

“Who?” he interrupted quickly. 

“Eugene. Well, Flynn, but they’re the same guy. He’s like you, he has two names.” 

“I do not have two names,” he chuckled. “I have a _preferred_ name.” 

“Okay,” she giggled. “So does he.” He rolled his eyes playfully and she bit her lip. “We are going to look great, I think.” 

“You think?” he laughed.

“I _know_.” He raised an eyebrow in question. “I got to see into the future. The kids are gonna love it.” 

He chuckled, sighing, “I gotta dress up?” 

She nodded. “It’s for the kids. They like seeing people dressed up. Well, they like the candy more, but still. Halloween is the one night we can be like kids again, Jug. Trust me, you’re gonna have fun, I promise.” 

She kissed his cheek thoughtlessly and he scrunched up that side of his face slightly afterwards. She gave him an embarrassed look, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced away.

“So, um…” Jughead cleared his throat, looking at his hands. “These… costumes. What are we… where are we getting them?” 

“Oh,” she breathed, shrugging. “I-I have some saved.” He nodded, not liking how the air between the two of them became stiff. “If I order them tomorrow… I can have it for you by the 26th.” 

“I can get my own costume, Betty. I know I don’t like the idea but…” 

“No.” She winced a little as she said it, standing up off the bed and starting to pace, taking the notebook with her. “I have certain costumes and… it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t think you’d look very hard. You’ve also never seen the movie so you don’t really… know, you know.” 

He nodded, reaching into his back pocket. “Let me at least pay you-”

“No,” she interrupted with a shake of her head. “Let me do this. I don’t want your money. Trust me, this is more fun for me than it will be for you and taking your money would make me feel really bad.” 

“Betty-”

“No!” she exclaimed, letting out an aggravated huff. “I don’t want your money, I’m serious. Put it away.” He watched her for a moment before he put his wallet back reluctantly. She breathed deeply, nodding. “Now, come here. I need to take your measurements.” He gave her a questioning look and she huffed. “Just come here, please.” 

He moved off the bed hesitantly and she stepped over to him. “Okay,” she breathed over his neck and he hoped she couldn’t see the goosebumps she broke out over his skin. She set the notebook on the end of her bed, reaching behind herself and fumbling with something in her desk. 

She whined and he turned around. “You good?” he asked, hiding the amusement in his voice. 

“I’ll be right back,” she grumbled, leaving the room in a haste. 

He nodded, sighing and looking around the room. It really hadn’t changed in 10 years. Her pictures were still in the same spot, her jewelry box was still propped open and overflowing with things she only wore on special occasions, and her bed still had the same sheets. Betty was obviously one who enjoyed stability. 

She came rushing back into her room, closing the door behind her. “Polly took my damn measuring tape. She doesn’t even need it!” 

He snickered, clearing his throat and stopping when she narrowed her eyes at him. “S-Sorry.” 

She huffed, focusing on the measuring tape as she said, “Arms out. Like, an airplane.” 

“An airplane?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“You are being such a pain,” she huffed and he laughed. “Yes, like an airplane.” 

He chuckled, putting his arms out. “Do I look like an airplane now?” 

“I’m gonna choke you.” He nodded and she narrowed her eyes at him before she rolled them. “ _Anyway_ ,” she said sassily and he smirked. “Don’t move, and stand up straight.” 

“I am,” he claimed.

“Nope, you’re slouching,” she explained. “Can’t you feel it?” He shook his head and she sighed, pulling his shoulders back. “Okay, stay right there. Do not move.”

She stepped in front of him, Jughead’s eyes widening as it felt like she was wrapping him in a hug as she wrapped the measurement tape around his back and across his chest. She pulled it around, reading it and nodding. 

She jotted it down in the notebook before she stepped back to him. She did his stomach next and her closeness again was driving him nuts. She finished his measurements quicker than it felt like she did and she hadn’t noticed the flush on his cheeks that he couldn’t get to go away. That was a good thing. 

Once she was finished, he had told her he had to go home and get ready for work (and for once, that wasn’t a lie). She led him to the front door, slipping him her phone number on a small piece of teared paper. 

“Just in case… you want someone to talk to.” 

“Oh.” he muttered as he took the slip of paper. “Th-Thanks.” She just grinned, nodding. The look was slightly unnerving. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” she whispered in a short breath. 

He didn’t respond, just walked away as a ringing started in his head that was followed by persistent pain. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes as he walked, groaning. He was tired of the headaches. 

_October 21st_

Betty knocked on Jughead’s door, giving him a grin when he answered. “Hi,” she giggled. “Sorry for showing up later than I promised I would. Work held me back a few minutes, we had a meeting.” 

“No need to apologize,” he assured. “You’re okay. It gave me time to clean up.” He laughed and she smiled. 

She set her things down on the couch, turning to him and asking, “Have you eaten dinner?” 

He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t hungry when all of a sudden he felt his appetite come back full speed. “No, I haven’t.” 

“Chinese?” she questioned, pulling out her phone. He nodded, not remembering the last time he had eaten that day. 

What was it about Betty that made him actually want to eat? It was a new thing that happened when he was around her. 

Was whatever the hell that was going on in him as weak for Betty as he was? Did it have a soft spot for her that ended up helping him out in the long run? Or was he just suppressing his sexual feelings for her by eating the food she offered him? 

Betty was finished with the call quickly, dropping her phone on his kitchen counter like it was nothing. She gave him a bright smile, clasping her hands together. 

“No phones and no complaining about the movie.” 

“One complaint per movie,” he requested.

She scrunched up her nose as she shook her head and Jughead wanted to take that look with him to the grave. “Nope. No complaining, simple as that. And we have to make a pillow fort.” 

He cocked his head to his side, repeating, “A pillow fort.” 

“Yes!” she giggled. “They are mandatory to Halloween movie binges.” 

“Do you know what’s also mandatory?” She shook her head enthusiastically, giving him a wide-eyed look like an excited puppy. “ _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ and _Halloween_.” 

She gasped, crossing her arms over her chest. “No,” she snapped. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“No!” she shouted through gritted teeth. “I already told you I’m not watching horror movies.” 

“Then how can you call it a Halloween movie binge if the movie _Halloween_ isn’t in it?” She whimpered, pouting. “They’re not real, they’re not going to kill you.” She frowned, giving him an uneasy look. “Okay, it’s two movies and you have, like, 5.” 

“Yeah, but…” she shrugged. “They’re happy.”

“Horror movies can be happy.” 

“They can not,” she nagged. “You can watch them… but not back-to-back!”

He nodded, smirking. “Thank you.” 

He walked away down the hall towards his bedroom and Betty shouted, “We have to make a pillow fort now!” 

“Where do you think I’m going?” he called back and she squealed. 

~

“Move over,” Betty demanded, patting Jughead’s leg and taking the take-out container he handed her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“So what movie are you making me watch now?” 

“Well,” she mumbled, twisting her mouth in thought. “We’ve already watched _HalloweenTown High_ and _Twitches_. Maybe we could watch _A Nightmare Before Christmas_? It’s kind of creepy though…”

He scoffed, giving her an incredulous look. “Creepy?” 

She shrugged, muttering, “I said kinda.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Also, it’s a Christmas movie.” 

“Nuh-uh! It’s a Halloween movie,” she argued. 

“No,” he denied, shaking his head. “Christmas.” 

“Halloween.” 

“Christmas.” 

“Halloween.” 

He winced silently, shaking his head. “Yeah, sorry Catherine Tramell, it’s Christmas.” 

She rose to her knees, narrowing her eyes. She swallowed thickly, not realizing how close this position made them. “Halloween,” she breathed. 

His eyes ran over her face, settling on her lips shortly before they moved to her eyes. “Fine,” he whispered, smirking a little. “It’s Halloween.” 

She sighed, the breath from his words fanning his cheek. “It’s both,” she admitted quietly, slowly moving so she was sitting criss-cross again next to him. She was quiet for a minute before she leaned forward towards the computer, whispering, “And that’s what we’re watching next.”

~

Betty cradled her knees to her chest, looking at the computer screen with a scrunched up face, squinting. She cringed at the scene that played, trying not to squeeze her eyes closed. 

“Betty, it’s not that bad.” She looked over at him with a frown and he shrugged. “What?” he laughed. 

“You’re mean,” she pouted, glancing at the screen furtively. “I don’t like this movie.” 

“It’s almost over.” She whimpered, moving closer to him. She whimpered again at the scene that played, gripping his arm tightly and burying her face in his bicep. 

“Can we turn it off, please?” she asked, her voice quivering. 

He looked down at her with furrowed brows, muttering, “Are you crying?” 

“No,” she mumbled, taking a questioning glance at the computer screen but hiding her face again. “I just really don’t like it.” 

He sighed, closing the laptop. She gasped when he did so, squeezing him tighter. “Betts,” he snickered, trying to hide the amusement in his voice but failing miserably. “There’s nothing here but me and you.” 

“Yeah,” she shouted, picking her head up off of his arm. “They probably thought that too then they’re getting murdered!” He pushed his mouth into a thinline to pindown his laughter, nodding. “Stop, it’s scary.” 

She laid her head back on his arm and he smirked arrogantly. “It’s really not.” 

She huffed. “Yes, it is. You’re just saying it’s not to be cool.” 

He let a small chuckle slip, sighing. “Yeah, you caught me.” 

“I have to pee,” she whimpered. “But I don’t want to move. What if someone is out there… waiting…” she blinked at the dark sheet, breathing heavily and lowering her voice to a whisper as she mumbled, “What if they’re here to get me?” 

Jughead laughed suddenly, not being able to keep it in any longer. “Oh, my God,” he laughed, falling back against the pile of pillows Betty had made around them and starting to clutch his sides.

“I’m serious!” she huffed, hitting him on the arm with a pillow “They could be there waiting and stalking, you never know!” 

“Stop,” he said breathlessly. “No, you gotta stop.” 

She laughed a little herself, whining. “It’s not that funny.” 

He sighed, panting as he brushed his hair off of his forehead, his hat falling off. “Would you like me to take you to the bathroom?” 

“Will you wait outside the door?” she asked softly. He chuckled, nodding. 

He pulled his hat on quickly, standing up and holding out his hand. She took it shakily, staying close to his side. “Betts, nothing is out there, I promise.” 

“You don’t know that,” she whispered, gasping as he opened the fort. She let out a deep breath and Jughead grinned. “Are we sure this place is empty?” 

“Betty, I can promise you, it’s empty.” They stopped outside of the bathroom and she frowned, whimpering as she turned the light on quickly. “I’ll be right here,” he insisted. “I won’t leave.” 

She nodded, slowly closing the bathroom door behind her. He heard her open the shower curtain and she exclaimed, “Ah-ha!” loudly. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe his smile away. 

He leaned against the wall beside the door, rocking on his heels. He heard the sink turn on and Betty was saying something to herself. 

The door opened and he popped out of the dark, Betty screaming and groaning. “Asshole!” she shouted. 

“Would it have been…” he started to laugh and she frowned. “I’m sorry. Would it have been better if I had said something?” 

“Probably not,” she muttered. “You need to invest in a hallway light.”

“You’ll be better soon.” She rolled her eyes jokingly and he guided her back to the fort, helping her get inside. They laid down on their makeshift bed, keeping a small amount of space between them with a wall of pillows Betty had shoved between them. 

Jughead sat up after they were quiet for a minute, propping his head in his hand as he asked, “I’m not gonna wake up with your parents on my porch, am I?”

She rolled over to face him, an incredulous look on her face. “My parents aren’t like that, not with you. If you were Archie…” she winced, nodding. “But they trust you, they don’t trust him.” He sighed, running his eyes over her face. “They like you, Jug, that’s a very good thing.” He smiled a little and she grinned herself. 

They watched each other silently much longer than they should have before Betty furrowed her brows, tucking her head under her hand and stating, “You still have your hat on.” 

“Oh. Um,” he took it off smoothing the back of his hair down and setting his hat above their pillows. “Whoops,” he chuckled forcibly. 

She narrowed her eyes in question, watching him closely. “Why do you always wear it?” He shrugged, laying down. “Will you ever tell me?” 

He swallowed thickly, looking at one of the pillows between them. “I just… have a scar.” 

“Oh,” she muttered. “What happened?” 

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “Just-Just a bad… bad sk-skateboard accident.” 

Her face grew a wince and she moved closer to him. “Where?” she asked, brushing hair off of his forehead. 

“Back-Back of my head.” 

“Can I see it?” He stared at her for a few seconds and she just chewed her lip patiently. 

He sighed as he rolled over, fisting the blanket as he nervously waited for what she was going to do. He felt her push away the hair at the nape of his neck before he felt her finger trace over the scar. He squeezed his eyes closed at the delicate touch, breathing shakily. 

He inhaled sharply but silently when he felt her lips press a small kiss to it. Tears filled his eyes when she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. 

He dared not to move until she fell asleep, a tear slipping from his eye and falling onto the pillow. He didn’t want this to be the end anymore.


	2. Diagnosis/Prognosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_October 22nd_

Jughead stepped out of his bedroom, freezing when Betty gave him a questioning look from the kitchen where she was making breakfast. “Where are you going?” she asked, furrowing her brows. 

“I’m just going on a run.” He nodded, she nodded—neither were convinced. “I’ll be back soon and-and I have my phone so if you need something, just call.” She nodded again, looking over her shoulder to give him a smile. 

He left the trailer quickly, shivering a little when he got outside but letting out a breath of relief nonetheless. 

He wasn’t sure if she remembered what she did last night or if she was choosing to ignore it. Jughead _wanted_ to ignore it, but his brain and the scar weren’t letting him. 

Every few minutes when he was around her, it felt as if there was a magnet in his head that was pulling her towards him. He couldn’t pull himself away from her side, he wanted to be right there with her. 

No one had ever seen his scar, no one besides his dad. He kept it hidden under his hair and hat, too afraid to even show anyone. It wasn’t because he was worried that someone would judge him. Hell, people would probably give him praise if he told them _why_ he has it. 

What worried him was how it looked. It was huge. It went from the nape of his neck almost to the middle of his skull. And whoever had done the staples they put in his head, didn’t think anything about how the scar would look and made it as vicious as they could. It was jagged and weird and Jughead didn’t want people seeing that. If he could spare them having to look at it, he would. 

Sure, his hair covered it, but that was only to a certain extent. If the wind blew a certain way, it would be exposed and it would make him uncomfortable. 

Jughead breathed heavily as he jogged to a stop at a corner, placing his hands on his knees and exhaling heavily. _How the hell do people do this on a daily basis?_ , he asked himself in his head. 

He huffed, straightening and rolling his eyes. He walked the rest of the way to the park, falling down onto a bench. His chest was on fire just from running less than 3 minutes, he didn’t understand how people were able to run 5K’s. 

His hand slipped under his beanie, touching his scar lightly. He inhaled sharply at the sting that followed, questioning why it hadn’t felt like that when she had done it. 

He took his hand away, resting it in his lap. _The abandoned park didn’t seem so abandoned this early in the morning_ , he observed. 

It could have been because of the fog, giving it that eerie glow as if ghosts were still roaming the earth from rising at night. Or it could have been how the rain and wind that came last night had moved the dirt and leaves around, giving it a played-on feel. 

He wasn’t sure why no one used it. There were kids in the trailer park that he’s sure would love to play on it all the time—he knew it was sometimes the highlight of his and Jelly’s day when they were younger. 

They may not even know about it, though. Some of the Serpents set strict boundaries with their children and the playground wasn't in the best part of the Southside. If you went a little further up the road down past the park, you would be in what’s considered Ghoulie territory and they would eat the poor kids alive. 

With a huff and groan, Jughead stood, tucking his hands in his sweatpants pockets. It was a little too cold to be able to sit on a park bench for a while and not catch a cold. 

He took his time walking back to his trailer, trying to buy time away from Betty. He didn’t feel empty yet but he was sure at some point he would. 

He didn’t get it. He couldn’t understand this unforeseen attraction he has for her. It made no sense. He didn’t know her, he didn’t talk to her, he would see her—that’s it. 

How the hell do you talk to a person once and then all of a sudden you want them bent over your knee at your every whim? Or let them vent to you about something they’ve had bottled up for years and you just cradle them, telling them how it would be okay? Where does that come from? 

~

Jughead pushed his plate away from himself, struggling to swallow his mouthful before he croaked out, “What?” 

Betty sat up straight from where she was watching him with a smile, shrugging. “Nothin’,” she answered, still smiling. 

“Is something… wrong?” he questioned, his eyes wide.

She shook her head, responding with a squeaky “Nope.” 

He clenched his jaw, pushing his hands between his knees as he mumbled, “I feel like there is.” 

“Mnh-mnh,” she squeaked again. Weird. “Nothin’ at all. Promise.” He nodded slowly, feeling unnerved. 

He watched her for long moments before she furrowed her brows, looking at him. “So,” she started. “You don’t… hang out with anyone?” 

He shrugged. “No, not really. It was easier to just be by myself.” 

“Was?” she questioned, her attention piqued and her eyes shining with excitement. 

He shrugged, adjusting in his seat a little and rubbing his hands over his thighs. “Ye-Yeah.” He nodded. “I mean, we hang out often, it’d be quite rude if I didn’t at least consider you as a friend.”

She looked like an exhilarated puppy as she sprung up in her seat, sitting on her heels with a large smile. “You consider me as a friend? Like, really?” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes hopeful and her pointer finger rubbed over the table patiently. 

He started to slowly nod. “Yes,” he whispered. “Is that okay?” Her smile got larger as she gave him a quick nod. “Okay, so yeah. We’re friends,” he decided. 

“We’re friends,” she mirrored, her grin turning from excited to proud in a flash. “How good of friends?” 

He sighed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure,” he replied. “Good, I guess.” 

“Well…” she sighed, lowering back in her seat and pulling her knee into her chest. She folded her hands over it, letting out a deep breath. “You know, there’s… just good?” 

“Betty, what is this?” He furrowed his brows, tired of the interrogation. 

She shrugged, looking down at her knee and started to trace a circle over it. “I dunno,” she muttered. “I just… I just wanna know, you know? I mean, I’ve had lots of ‘good’ friends before and, well,” she scoffed as she shook her head, “they really weren’t that good.” 

He adjusted so he sat up more in his sesat, giving her a questioning look. “So, what?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes. “You… think I’m lying? Think I’m gonna… forget about you? Because if we need a refresher from last time…” he gave her a pointed look and she clenched her jaw. He forced a smile, noting, “It was you who forgot about me, not the other way around.” 

She swallowed thickly, looking away from his eyes. “That was rude.” 

“Was it rude, or is it just a fact you’re still trying to run from?” She averted his gaze and he nodded. “Exactly,” he uttered, standing up out of his seat and moving to the bathroom. 

Jughead slammed the door, leaning against it as he rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , he chanted in his head against the buzzing and the pain.

~

Betty smoothed her ponytail back, breathing deeply. She glanced over at Jughead who was sitting at the dining table, reading over something with deep concentration. 

The air between them for the past three hours had been hostile and tainted, but she couldn’t leave it that way. She could tell just from his facial expression alone that he wanted her gone, though he didn’t force her to get out. 

She knew she should say something, she needed to give them a cleanslate, but she couldn’t do it. Every time she went to open her mouth to speak, she shut it just as fast, not knowing what to say. 

Jughead was right, she was avoiding the truth because she hated herself for what she did. Blaming him was much simpler than owning up to her fault (even if for 10 years, she’s known she caused their ‘fall-out’). 

Her brain felt fuzzed and she felt crazed. Words were there, perched on the tip of her tongue like a bird ready to fly, but it was far too worried about falling to the ground rather than swooping into the sky. It would be so much easier if she could just speak her mind.

His phone rang and her eyes glued to his phone as he tripped to pick it up. It bounced around in his hands before it smacked onto the floor, Jughead muttering a soft “Fuck”. He scrambled to get it off of the ground, stumbling into the hallway as he answered the call. 

She furrowed her brows, wondering why the call had startled him so much. She knew he was focused, but she had no idea he was _that_ focused. 

An urge grew inside of her to see what he was doing. He had been silent the whole time, but he seemed fairly frustrated. 

_Maybe it’s interesting_ , she thought to herself. She looked down at her computer screen, looking at the essay she was struggling to write. _It could wait, it’s not like the words are spewing out of me a mile a minute._

Carefully, she closed the laptop and set it aside. Just as she pushed herself up off the couch, he walked out of the hallway, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He went straight back to his seat, letting out a long exhale before he went back to whatever he was doing before the phone call. 

She watched him for a few moments, looking from his hands to him. She inhaled sharply, stepping forward as she stammered out, “What-What-What are you, uh, doing?” 

He glanced over at her, shrugging and tucking a paper away. “Just…” he sighed, shrugging. “Stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?” He gave her a weird look and she let out a long breath. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, smoothing her hands over her skirt as she sat across from him at the table. 

“Veronica came and… I don’t know,” she said almost through a whimper. “I just… I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what happened, I can’t… I just don’t know.” 

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head and closing the folder in front of him. “How do you not know what happened?” 

She shrugged, feeling tears burn her eyes. “I just don’t,” she confessed in a hushed tone of voice. 

He swallowed thickly, folding his hands on the table before giving her a pointed look. “Do you want to know what happened—from-from _my_ perspective? Do you want to know what _I_ went through?” 

“Y-Yes.” 

He nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I was 8 years-old, I didn’t… I didn’t understand what was happening. But what I understood was that the only friends that… that I had managed to make, found someone better. You two found someone that…” he sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “You two found someone new and I became dirt. I was fine with it in elementary school, it was whatever then.” He paused for a moment, Betty watching him intently. 

Jughead cleared his throat, continuing. “But in middle school, when Veronica told everyone… everything and I watched you two… gain off of the jokes you made about me, made everything worse. You were my best friends, only friends, and the shit I told you was shit I don’t think I can even tell someone now. I trusted you, and you just blabbed the first fucking moment someone would listen.” 

Her chin quivered and her voice shook as she mumbled, “I’m sorry.” 

“But you’re not. You weren’t then, I know that for sure.” His voice was smooth, thorough, while she sat across from him fighting a sob. “Why would you… what did you get from that? You got a laugh? A chuckle? Do you know how shitty of a person you have to be to make jokes about someone’s… things a person can’t control?” 

“I’ve learned from that-“

“Have you?” he tested, his look challenging. “People _love_ saying they’ve changed just to get the most vulnerable right back under their wing to crush them again.” She wiped her face quickly and he sighed. “Tell me why you actually started this… friendship again. And I want the truth, not those sugar coated lies you tell everyone.” 

She looked down at her hands in her lap, shrugging. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. She _didn’t_ know, really. “Veronica’s not the best person-”

“It’s taken you ten years to see that?” he interrupted. 

“So what, now I’m naive?” He shrugged and she breathed shakily. “I needed to fix what I screwed up, okay? That’s… I just wanted to be okay, you know. I just… I just wanted to know that if… I didn’t want everything to be weird anymore. We spent a decade being strangers after we were inseparable. Who does that?” 

He shrugged, explaining, “Us, obviously.” 

“Yeah, okay.” She sighed, rubbing her hands over her arms after crossing them over her chest. “I want this, Jug. In the beginning, I may have had just thoughts to be… acquaintances, but that changed f-f-fast.” She offered a watery smile. “Neither of them do this shit with me. They refuse to do Halloween because… we’re 18 and we shouldn’t act like children. And they go to all these parties and I don’t want to do that. If I do drink—which only happens at Veronica’s—I want to be somewhere that I know I’ll be safe.” 

He looked down at his lap and she chewed her lip. “You’ve become more of a friend to me in… a week, than they have in over a decade. I don’t know them,” she said softly. “Not anymore. I want this to stick, I need it to stick.”

“I don’t know if it can.” 

“Jughead,” she cried, her eyes following him as he stood up out of his seat. “It can.” 

“No, Betty,” he laughed coldly. “I’m not fucking sure it can.” 

“Why?” she whimpered. “Why can’t it? Give me one reason.” 

“I can’t give you a reason!” he yelled.

“I want one!” she shouted back, getting up out of her seat. “I want a reason! I deserve a reason!” 

“No,” he said calmly. “You seriously don’t. And it’s my thing to tell so I decide if I want to tell it—I don’t.” 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I have to tell you why I want to be friends but you don’t have to tell me why you’re not willing to try?” 

“Don’t put fucking words in my goddamn mouth, understand me?” he roared loudly with his finger in her face, Betty stepping back until she slammed into a wall. 

He swallowed thickly, his eyes widening as he looked down at his hands. He looked lost and afraid all of sudden, the exact opposite of how he acted just seconds ago. 

Betty breathed heavily, partially terrified of the side of Jughead she had just seen. Where the hell had it come from? 

“Jug-”

“Leave,” he mumbled, his eyes not leaving his hands. 

“Jughead-”

“Leave, please!” he sobbed, finally giving her a glance. Fear was in his eyes along with tears like he hadn’t seen that side of him before either and he never wanted to see it again.

She watched him for some time before she nodded, peeling herself off the wall and collecting her things that were scattered about his trailer. 

_October 23rd_

Jughead stared at his feet, clenching his jaw. _I need new shoes_ , he told himself, inspecting the tattered and worn converse on his foot. He sighed, glancing at his nurse.

She was an older woman, maybe in her late fifties. Her name tag said her name was Mary and he thought it fit her. She reminded him of Betty, too. Sweet, kind, constantly smiling. Mary always had a grin on her face no matter what she was doing or what someone was saying. At times, it was unnerving, but most of the time it was oddly soothing. 

He looked over to the door beside him, not wanting to go in. He hated MRI’s. The machine was huge and loud and unsettling. He may be claustrophobic, but that damn machine didn’t allow him to be. 

He looked back to Mary, weakly asking, “Do I have to?” 

She looked at him, her smile still present as she nodded. “How about we make it so we only have to do one?” He furrowed his brows in question. “Instead of taking two different scans, I’ll put in the dye on the first run. I’ll talk to the radiologist,” 

“Dye?” he asked with concern laced through his voice.

“It can’t harm ya’,” she assured. “It lights up your brain in a way, makes it easier for the doctors to determine what’s going on.” 

“Oh,” he nodded, looking back at his feet. “Makes sense.” 

She nodded herself, the door opening. They stepped into the room and he slipped his shoes off before he moved over to the machine, sitting down on the table. He watched with a cringe as she pushed something into his IV. 

“Lay back,” she instructed, helping him do so. “I’ll be through that glass,” she said as she pointed to the glass at the front of the room, “and there’s a mic so if you need something or you wanna get out, yell and we’ll help ya’.” 

He nodded, his hands clenching at his sides as he watched her disappear then reappear in the room. He let out a deep breath as the MRI roared to life under him, his eyes closing as he took in deep, calming breaths. 

He opened them again once he was inside the machine, feeling nauseous as he stared up at the top of it. 

_What if it falls?_ , he questioned in his head. _You’re a goner. It’d go right on your head and then no more Jughead. You’d be crushed and you might not feel it but there’s always that possibility you will. And your head, it’ll splat just like a tomato and it’ll stain… everything._

His breathing started to get heavy at the thought and he wanted to get out of there. 

“You’re doing good,” Mary said over whatever the hell was in that room. “Just one more minute.” 

_Minute? Minute?! What the hell does she mean minute? This should be done now!_

The noise started to make his head hurt and his breathing on top of that was making his nausea worse. He wanted out and he didn’t care if the fucking scan wasn’t good enough or if it came out shitty-

“You’re all done,” she cut in again and the machine started to pull him out. 

The door he had come in opened and she stepped inside with a smile. Her voice was just ringing in his ears and he couldn’t make out what she was saying through the blurriness that flashed in his eyes. 

She had begun to say something. He couldn’t decipher anything and even if he could have read lips, his vision was too blurred to do so. 

As soon as she helped him up, he felt himself fall. He hit the ground and the feeling was followed by a deafening silence. 

~

Jughead drank the water Mary handed him even if he hadn’t wanted it. He passed the empty paper cup to her and she threw it in the trash next to them. 

He breathed deeply and she helped him stand. “We think you were having a panic attack,”

He wanted to cut her off, (they’re doctors, they should know panic attacks almost never cause fainting), but he stayed silent.

“But-” _Oh_ , he thought. “You stopped almost as soon as you came out of the MRI and that drop in your blood pressure made you faint. There is a possibility that you reacted poorly to the dye, although that happens very rarely. But, for safety reasons, we have to keep you for about 20 minutes after your CT to make sure you don’t faint again.” 

Jughead nodded, not having the heart to tell her that she doesn’t have to have her arm wrapped around his waist. He was fine, he could walk, he was just a little out of it. 

“Do you get anxious during a CT scan?” she asked as they walked into the room that housed the machine. 

He shook his head, taking his shoes off again. “No, not as bad as an MRI,” he responded after a second. 

“Do you want to reschedule-”

“No,” he said firmly. “I need these done today.”

She sighed, nodding. “Okay, well I’ll just be behind the glass like during the MRI. This one is going to take a lot longer, is that okay?” He nodded, lying back. “Okay. If you want to be let out at any time, just let us know.” 

He let out a deep breath, crossing his hands on his stomach as she left the room. 

~

The door to the room opened and a new nurse stepped in, his name tag reading Johnathon. He looked young but it didn’t worry Jughead. He didn’t understand why people panicked so much when they saw a slightly younger person working as a nurse, doctor or surgeon. Jesus, they need jobs too. 

He gently took out Jughead’s IV, disposing of it before giving him a once-over. “You feel okay?” he asked as he scribbled something on to a paper that was attached to his clipboard. 

“Yeah,” Jughead answered. “I feel fine.” 

Johnathon nodded, mumbling, “Headache?” 

“No.” Jughead muttered back.

“Nausea?”

“No.”

Johnathon shrugged, putting the pen away. “Yeah, I’m not going to force you to say no to every question here.” Jughead nodded, standing up off the bed they made him wait on. “You’re free to go.” 

“Thanks,” he said under his breath as he left the room, pulling on his coat. 

He walked out of the hospital, hurrying to the city bus that was waiting outside. He dropped a dollar into the small glass box, moving to sit in a single seat in the back. 

He hadn’t heard from Betty since he had forced her to leave the trailer the day before. He needed to apologize to her, but how do you apologize for something you didn’t even know you were capable of doing? 

He didn’t want to lie to her, he was lying to her enough. But he couldn’t outright say ‘Hey, remember how I backed you into a wall out of fear? Yeah, well, it might not be my fault. Ha! Crazy right?’ She would never want to see him again because that just makes him sound like an asshole. 

Is it like apologizing for something you _have_ done, because he wasn’t sure if he had ever done that before. When he did something, he had a reason so he rarely apologized. 

But Betty was different, and this situation was different. Everything was different and he hated it. 

~

Jughead blinked at Betty’s house for the tenth time that second. He had been standing in the same spot for at least 20 minutes trying to figure out how one would go about a situation like his. 

First off, he had no idea if she was even home. And if she was, she may not even want to see him. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, he had scared himself from what he had done. 

He had gotten in her face, he had screamed, his hand had gone from him pointing at her to a fist in a blink of an eye. He didn’t know he was capable of that, he didn’t know he could even think that fast. He would never be able to understand how she had almost made him as mad as Archie had that one time. 

_God_ , he thought with a shake of his head. _Knock and do what you need to do._

He fixed the front of his jacket, smoothing his hands over it. He breathed deeply like he had at the hospital and walked forward to her stoop. He knocked gently, cringing at the noise before stepping back. 

He waited with his hands behind his back, his face sinking a little when Alice opened the door. “Can I help you?” she asked. 

“Is Betty home?” he responded before he backed out. 

Alice placed her hand on her hip, shaking her head. “No, she’s running a little late today. She should be home from school any moment if you want to come inside and wait.” _School. Shit, you missed school!_

“Yes, please,” he said as nicely as he could. Alice made him nervous and maybe the fact that she had dated his father in high school was the reason or it could also be how she holds her nose a little too high in the air for his liking. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t sit well with him. 

“Would you like anything?” She raised a brow at him after she closed the front door and he shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh,” she huffed with a wave, “you don’t have to put up that ma’am act. Alice, please, I’m not ninety.” He nodded, pacing in the entryway as she walked off into the kitchen. 

He took in the pictures on the walls and color of the paint, feeling like he had never even been there before. 

He inhaled sharply when the door opened, Betty stepping inside and her eyes going wide. She slowly closed it behind her, keeping her distance from him as she locked it. 

“Mom,” she called out and Jughead dared not to move. 

“You’re home,” Alice laughed from the kitchen. “He’s here for you.” 

Betty continued to watch Jughead and he stepped forward, Betty going back into the door. “Why are you here?” she whispered.

“T-To apologize,” he said weakly. 

She sighed shakily, pushing herself off the door. “Upstairs,” she motioned to the stairs blindly as she said so, Jughead following behind her when she brushed past him. 

He was silent, still attempting to come up with what he wanted to say. Betty was silent as well, trying to figure out if she wanted to hear what he had to say at all. 

She closed her bedroom door and his dam broke. “I’m sorry,” he cried out quickly. “Okay? I don’t know what happened and I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. I didn’t mean to shout, I-I didn’t mean to-to get _that_ aggressive—I didn’t mean to get aggressive at all!” She watched him closely and he sighed. “You gotta forgive me Betty because right now, you’re the only thing that’s going to keep me here and as scary as that is…” he shrugged. “It’s true.” 

He gave her a hopeful look and she dropped her bag on the floor, sitting on her bed as she mumbled, “How many times have you used that line?” 

“Betty,” he breathed as he turned to face her. “I’m being serious here. I’m sorry, I don’t… fuck.” He groaned, wiping a hand over his face. 

“You could have hurt me,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said back in defeat as he sank down into her desk chair. 

She studied him, taking in the remorseful look he wore. He couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to, whatever had happened between the two of them was something fleeting, something he obviously didn’t do because he wanted to. 

After another moment passed, she breathed out, “But you didn’t.” He gave her a shocked look and she sighed. “I’m mad and hurt that you did that to me, but you had me right there and you could have done anything that you wanted to me. You didn’t and because of that, I feel like it would be wrong to blame you for it.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “That doesn’t mean I’m not partially terrified of you, understand?” He nodded again and she huffed. “You won’t do it again, will you?” 

“No!” he exclaimed. “No, I swear. I will do anything in my power to never do that again.” She nodded hesitantly and he breathed deeply. “Betty, I know you’re shaken up from it, so am I. I don’t… I know I’ve done shit but I would _never_ hurt you, so you gotta believe me when I say I don’t know what happened to me.” 

“You got this look in your eyes…” she huffed, shaking her head. “It was horrifying, Jughead. I know you may be afraid of yourself, but I can’t stop thinking about how you looked.”

He furrowed his brows, asking, “What do you mean how I looked?” 

She swallowed thickly, chewing her lip for a moment. She shrugged, responding, “You looked like you wanted to kill me.” 

He let out a shaky breath, sighing, “What?” 

“Your eyes, they went… blank and you…” she sighed, picking at the fur of the stuffed cat on her bed. “You looked ready to kill, but it was gone as soon as you blinked. It was almost like something came over you, p-possessed you.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “It wasn’t like the look you gave Archie though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

She let out a deep breath, shrugging. “With Archie, you were there but you weren’t there. But with me, you looked lost. You checked out, with Archie… you didn’t. So yes, I’m afraid, but I still trust that you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

He gave her a nod, looking down at his hands and wondering how he got here. A few days ago, Betty was just another girl. Now she’s one of the only people he’s ever apologized to and someone he cares about more than anything. How the hell does that happen? 

“On another note,” she mumbled, attempting to change the subject. “You weren’t at school.” 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I had a doctors appointment.” 

“Oh.” She nodded, sitting forward and furrowing her brows. “What for?” 

He shrugged again, fixing the back of his hat. “Just a check-up thing for school.” 

“You’re okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he answered far too quickly. “It wasn’t important.” She nodded, though you could see her hesitance as she did so. He cleared his throat, asking, “What’d I miss?” 

“Just… stuff,” she chuckled. “No tests or anything. Really, the makeup work will be super easy.” He smiled tinily as a response, the two of them going quiet. 

Neither of them really knew what to say. The only thing on Jughead’s mind was figuring out what was on his scans. On Betty’s mind was nothing, really. All day she had been lost in thought, thinking about what she would say to Jughead when she saw him next. But now that he was sitting in her desk chair, she had no idea what to say. 

Jughead cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um…” Betty uttered, swallowed thickly. “I need to get ready for work,” she lied, needing an excuse to get him out of her room. She couldn’t focus with him there.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. I-I… need to too.” He clenched his jaw as he stood, pushing her chair in. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school?” 

“Yeah,” she murmured. She gave him the biggest grin she could force and he did much the same. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left quickly, the air in the room too thick, almost like a fog of awkwardness had covered the two of them. 

Betty groaned as she closed her bedroom door, rolling her eyes as she pushed off of it. She moved to her bed, letting out a more guttural groan as she fell face-first into a pillow. 

_October 24th_

Betty walked into school, scanning the heads and frowning when she couldn’t find Jughead. She huffed when an arm clasped around her shoulders, looking over at Kevin. 

“Halloween plans: go.” he said quickly. 

“Um,” she started, shrugging. “Jug and I are passing out candy at my house.” 

“Jug and I,” he repeated, looking away from her with a wide-eyed look. “That’s… new,” he pointed out as he removed his arm from her shoulders. 

Betty gave him a confused look, scoffing. “What’s wrong with me hanging out with Jughead?” 

Kevin shrugged, shaking his head. “I just thought we moved on from him. I mean, he is borderline psychotic-”

“You do realize he’s a person, right?” she interrupted, feeling her blood begin to boil. 

“What?” he laughed. 

“He's a person and he has feelings— _real_ feelings just like me and you. He’s not a punching bag for your… worn out jokes.” Kevin’s face grew an incredulous look and she sighed. “Think about it. How would you feel if the whole school thinks you’re nuts because someone makes up one lie?” 

He laughed coldly. “You’re not this perfect person either, Betty.” He crossed his arms, the two of them stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t think this charity work you’re doing is a good deed. You’re the one who told Veronica this ‘lie’,” 

“At least I’m trying to fix the mess I made,” she replied. “We were his best friends Kevin, and we left him for Veronica. I’m trying to make up for the mistake I made, I don’t see you trying to do that. All you do is use his mistake—a mistake that was almost two years ago—against him constantly. If Archie can push what he did away, I’m pretty sure that’s a sign that you should too.” 

Kevin scoffed and Betty turned, walking up the stairs and gasping when she got to the landing. She placed a hand over her heart, huffing. 

“Jesus,” she mumbled. “How long have you been there?” 

Jughead shrugged, following her up the second set of stairs. “Long enough,” he answered. “You don’t have to stick up for me, you know. I’m not a child.”

“I don’t care what you are,” she snapped. “I’m tired of this bullshit! It’s all my fault because I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. I’m _trying_ to change them, but I can’t do it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, huffing. She breathed deeply, giving him a look of remorse. “I don’t know how to get people to stop.” 

He shrugged, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re more worried about this than I am, Betty. I forgave you, we’re growing from it, it’s in the past. I don’t need you fighting my battles,” he laughed. 

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to get people to leave you alone, thought you would want that.” 

“Betty…” he sighed.

She gave him a glance before she walked into her class. He scoffed, watching her move to her seat and sit down. 

~

Betty nudged Jughead’s shoulder after moving over to the lunch table he was sitting at and he gave her a brief glance before he looked back to the book in his hand, turning up his music on his phone. 

She breathed deeply, getting where he was coming from. That morning she had been passive-aggressive and even she was annoyed with herself. 

“Can I sit?” she asked carefully. 

He looked up at her with narrowed eyes and a forced smile, gritting out, “I’m sure if I say no, you’ll sit anyway.” 

“Okay,” she sighed while sitting down, “you’re a little… upset.” He rolled his eyes, taking his headphones off. “I don’t get it, Jug, okay? I would… want the person who got a rumor started about me to get that rumor to stop.” 

“Betty,” he scoffed, closing his book and setting it aside. “You’re not going to get the murmuring to stop, it will always be there. Someone will always want someone to talk about and I’m the easy target because they think they know the most about me. It’s life,” he shrugged. 

She sighed, whimpering. “I want them to stop.” 

“I get that,” he said with a nod, huffing. “But, Betty, it’s damn near impossible now. I know you feel bad about it but don’t be. It’s… I’ve pushed it away, I’ve learned to ignore it, just be grateful they’re not talking about you.” 

“Oh, well, too late for that.” He furrowed his brows in question. “I’m sure Veronica and Kevin are going to start something about me at some point or another. If you’re okay, I’ll be okay.” 

“They’re assholes,” he uttered. 

She scoffed, sighing, “Sometimes.” He smirked and she bit her lip. “Um, our costumes should be here today so I need you to come over to make sure it fits.” 

“That completely ruins the surprise of you seeing me in it the first time Halloween night.” She raised her brow in amusement and his face went serious. “How am I supposed to be your… knight in shining armour if you already know what I look like?” 

She laughed, shaking her head. “First off, he’s not a prince and there’s no armour.” He hissed through his teeth and she bit back a laugh. “And second, we’re surprising each other?” 

“Yes, I think we should.” She grinned and he raised a brow. “Do you think we should?” 

“It would be fun,” she giggled. “But what if it doesn’t fit?”

“I’ll make it fit,” he answered sternly. “Plus, you took my measurement things so it has to fit.” 

She weighed the idea, shaking her head. “No, not really. I could have been completely wrong, you never know.” 

He winced, scrunching his nose a little as he responded, “I’m sure you weren’t.” 

“I can’t tell if that was a compliment or a retort,” she mumbled, her eyes narrowed in embarrassment. 

He chuckled, smirking. “It was a compliment, Betty.” 

She grinned, whispering a hushed, “Thank you.” He nodded towards her before he turned away, his eyes closed as he sucked in a long breath. “Jug,” she said questionably. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes once. He groaned as he started to dig his palms into his eyes and she furrowed her brows. 

She moved closer to him, her hand between his shoulders. “Are you sure?” she began. “You look like you’re in pain.” 

“No,” he grunted with a shake of his head, cradling it in his hands with his eyes covered. “I’m okay.” 

“Jug, I don’t think you are-” 

“If I say I’m okay, I’m okay!” he snapped and she frowned, moving away from him. “Fuck,” he grumbled a moment later, standing up out of his seat and shoving his book and headphones into his bag. 

She watched him leave the lunchroom, confused as to why he has been acting like this. It wasn’t like Jug, but she was sure he had his reasons, especially towards her. 

~

“I want to go home,” Jughead stated as he walked into the counselors office. “I don’t like it here, I can’t work here anymore.” 

Mrs. Burble sat more forward into her seat, giving him a quick questioning glance. With a sigh, she motioned to the chair in front of her desk blindly as she put away whatever she was looking at. 

Jughead lowered himself into the chair, watching her with a clenched jaw. The quiet of the room was calming but he somehow missed the bustle of the lunch room and wanted to go back, even if he knew his headache would only get worse and more painful the longer he was there. 

“So,” Mrs. Burble started. “What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” he scoffed. “I think I was pretty clear in describing that I’m done going to school here. Make it all online or I’ll quit.” 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Now, lets not go there-”

“No, _lets_. What the hell do I need out of senior year anyway?” He could feel his anger grow by the second, though he couldn’t decipher where it was coming from. He stood up, his arms flailing as he talked. “It’s all shit I’ve learned in the past and now I just have to listen to new teachers tell me all about it again. I don’t need any of it and it’s not like I’m going to even live past 20, so I don’t need a damn diploma anyway!” 

“Jughead,” she said, her voice soft and easy. “Sit back down and let’s talk about this.” He watched her for a moment before he lowered back down, fixing his hat. “First off, what’s this ‘I won’t make it past 20’ talk? Have you gotten your scans back?”

“No, but do you see how I’m acting?” he shouted. She shot him a pointed look and he huffed. “Do you know how big of a fucking miracle I would need in order for those damn scans to be clean?And I’m refusing surgery and chemo and radiation, and I’m sure as hell not going to get the damn thing biopsied either. I’m not going through that shit again,” 

She sighed, bargaining, “But if you do have something, that can help you.” 

He laughed, wiping a hand over his face. “You’re funny, you know that?” 

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Listen. In 2017, 1.9 million people died from cancer. So, you either let your cancer take you,” he shrugged. “Or you let the chemo and radiation whither away until you’re a blanket with bones and you’re so fed up, you want an assited suicide. You’re choice.” 

She let out a deep breath, folding her hands on her desk. “Jughead, think about this-”

“I have!” he yelled, scoffing. “Stop pretending that you know what it’s like to have a fucking brain tumor, okay? Jesus Christ, it’s not all just ‘oh, I feel different, let me go get a chunk of my brain removed so I’m all better’.” 

He sat up straighter, sighing. “It’s scans and tests and chemo and radiation and if you’re lucky, there’s surgery. And, half the time, the surgery doesn’t even get everything so you’re just stuck going in for surgery, after surgery, after surgery. So, I have decided and I’m sticking to my decision.” 

She nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Well, I’m glad you’re finally committing to something.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “But don’t you think it’s a little early to be deciding something so… life-changing?” 

He shrugged. “No, I do not. I’m an adult, I have to make adult decisions.” 

“Forsythe-”

“Jughead,” he interrupted. 

“Okay,” she replied. “ _Jughead_ … don’t you think you have some things that are worth living for?” 

“Oh, I know I do.” He nodded, weighing the idea in his head for a moment. “But her lifes probably better without me in it.” 

“Jughead, we’ve talked about this.” 

“Mm, yeah. Blah, blah, blah.” He shook his head, waving her off. “So, can you make all my classes online?” 

She adjusted in her seat, shaking her head. “I can’t do that.” 

He nodded, pulling a pen out of his bag. “What forms do I gotta fill out in order to drop out?” 

“Jughead, I don’t like this idea for you. You should look at other options-”

“I did,” he stated. “And you said that option isn’t available so what forms do I have to fill out?” 

She breathed deeply, watching him for a moment before she reached into the side of her desk, pulling out a packet. “These should be filled out by a parent,” 

“Okay, you’re using me not having parents as a reason to keep me in school. I’m 18, give me the papers.” He tried to stay calm, he didn’t really want to get upset with her, but he wanted this done. 

She set the papers on her desk, folding her hands on top of them. “Are you certain this is what you want to do? You don’t want to… stay in school until you graduate, you don’t want to take your GED, you don’t want to get a diploma?” 

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his thighs. “Why?” he asked, his face serious. “Why would I need all of that if I’m just going to be dead soon?” 

“Jughead, you don’t know that.” she said with a frown. 

“But I do,” he whispered sadly. “I can feel it, okay? You can tell when you’re gonna die, and that’s how I’ve felt since my first fucking headache. I’m done, they’re not going to be able to fix me. I am a bomb waiting to explode.” He let out a deep breath, swallowing thickly. “I want to see things, I want to travel. I want to… go to France and-and Italy. I want… to do that, I want to live. I don’t want to be stuck in a desk until the day I die.” 

Her look grew somber, like she had been crushed. It was weird for Jughead to see her like this because she was normally bright and cheery, ready to make him feel better. He was beginning to realize he often surrounded himself with people who were like their own versions of Betty. 

“To me,” she sighed. “That’s a valid reason as to why you want to drop out.” The anger he had felt subsided and he sat up straight. She passed him the papers, giving him a small smile. “You can fill them out here if you’d like and… you’ll be done.” 

~

Jughead walked into Pop’s, Betty giving him a smile from where she was sitting. He moved over to her, slipping into the seat across from her and giving her a much smaller smile, but he believed it was genuine. 

“Hi,” she breathed, her eyes gleaming with a silent question. “Where’d you go after… after lunch? You-You always seem to leave then, why?” 

“Oh.” He shrugged, looking at his hands in his lap. “I went to the counselors office, I dropped out.”

She gasped, sitting forward. “What? Why?” she asked with furrowed brows.

He shrugged again, moving his eyes from his hands to her. “I didn’t want to be in school anymore. I don’t think it’s worth it.” 

“Jughead, what?” 

“I want to run away.” 

“Jughead!” He clenched his jaw at the slight shout, blinking at her. “What… why are you doing this?” 

He swallowed thickly, shrugging. “I dunno,” he answered in a hushed voice. “I don’t want to be in school. Think about it, Betty. We’re stuck learning about the world in… a desk when we could be seeing it all ourselves.” 

“Jug, we’re teenagers, not adults.”

“I am an adult,” he exclaimed, lowering his voice. “I have been an adult since I was eight years old trying to take care of myself. I know what I want to do and I have my reasons for why I did it. I’m telling you because I kinda thought you’d maybe explain to me how this wasn’t a terrible idea, but all you’re doing is downgrading my decision.”

“Because it’s a horrible one!” she insisted. “Jughead, you are 18. Finish school, get a good job. Make something of yourself.” He clenched his jaw, huffing. “Maybe I would feel a little better about this if I knew where you’re coming from, but I don’t. So yes, I am going to downgrade your decision… but that doesn’t mean I don’t support you.” 

He looked at her with wide eyes and sighed. “I don’t like that you dropped out because I think you can become something great,” she continued. “But I support you because you are my best friend and that’s what you do. And you’re not going anywhere without me so you better book two tickets to wherever the hell you’re going.” 

His face was serious as he asked, “You’d run away with me?” 

She scoffed, furrowing her brows. “You were serious?” 

“If I was, would you go?” 

“Woah,” she mumbled, sitting back in her seat. “Jug, slow down. I thought that was just a… joke.” 

“It’s not and I’m asking you a question. If I ran away, would you come too?” 

“Jughead, my parents would be worried sick-”

“Forget about your parents for a minute, forget about school, forget about your priorities.” He looked her dead in the eye, whispering, “Would you go?” 

She blinked at him, trying to understand if he was being serious. He seemed as if he was, but what if he really wasn’t? What if this was a ploy to get her to look stupid? 

She tried to think. Would it really be a good idea to abandon everything for a boy? Is that really in her best interest? She would have to leave school, forget the future she had always wanted. More so the plan her mother wanted, but Betty thought it was okay too. 

The one thing she knew for sure about all of this, it would piss off her parents to no extent. That could be amusing, although it could also be absolutely terrifying. 

“Betty,” he whispered and she realized she had been quiet for longer than a minute. “You don’t-”

“Yes,” she breathed, surprising herself. 

He didn’t seem convinced as he narrowed his eyes, leaning forward as he echoed, “Yes?”

“Yes,” she repeated, though this time more sternly. “Yes, I would go with you because… why the hell not?” 

He chuckled, blinking at her for a moment. “Really?” he asked softly and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it.

She nodded, smiling a little. “Yeah, I would. Can we focus on Halloween, now?” 

He inhaled sharply, smirking as he huffed out, “Yes.” 

“Okay,” she sighed, picking the bag up at her side and passing it to him. “I have not touched it and it is still in the tissue paper wrapping it came in. If you will, please try it on when you get home and tell me if it fits or not. I’ve been anxious thinking about it all day,” she admitted, her eyes worried. 

He took the bag from her, nodding. “I promise, I’ll put it on.” 

She squealed quietly, grinning. “Thank you!” she giggled, standing up out of her seat and kissing his cheek. She gasped afterwards, whimpering softly before talking through her embarrassment. “I need to start working now, text me!” 

Jughead watched her as she hurried away, the smirk still on his face. He chuckled as he turned back so he was sitting forward, shaking his head as he left Pop’s. His grin didn’t falter on his way home and he swore his heart was shining for her and her only.

_October 26th_

“I don’t enjoy sitting alone at lunch, you know?” Betty said into the phone and Jughead laughed tiredly on the other line. She bit her lip, breathing deeply as she settled back into her bed. 

It had been two days since he dropped out of school and she hadn’t seen him since he told her. She missed him but she has been far too exhausted to walk to his trailer and he had been working, being much too tired to walk to her house himself. 

“I’m sorry for that,” he said through his chuckle and she grinned. “You could always ditch and come eat lunch with me.” 

“Eh,” she giggled and he chuckled again. “I’d rather not come and sit in a grease-filled shop for an hour.” 

He let out a teasing scoff. “It’s fun, you have no clue what you’re missing out on.” She laughed and she could hear him smile on the other end. “How boring is school on a scale of 1 to 10?” 

“Ha ha, I find it interesting, thank you.” He groaned, making a fake sound of disgust a second later. “Stop,” she laughed and he laughed himself. They fell quiet, listening to the sounds of each of them breathing. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

“Um…” he hissed, clearing his throat. “I think working.” 

“Do you know what time you’ll be done, or if you could maybe get the day off?” She chewed her lip, toying with the strings that were on her pajama shorts. “I miss you, Jug. I want to see you,” 

She was pouting like a whiny girlfriend and she hated how she sounded. _Could you be any more desperate?_ , she asked herself with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. 

“I’m not sure,” he responded, his voice light and limp, like he wasn’t giving it that much thought. “But I can check tomorrow, let you know?” 

She sighed, nodding although he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, okay. If you can’t, that’s fine, your job is more important.” 

“What were you thinking we could do?” His voice was soft and gruff and it only made her want to see him more, and hear him talk like that in person. “Or do you just want to hang out? Because if you plan on doing something, I’ll check if I can get off but if you just want to hangout, you can come over after I work.” 

“Well, I want to do something but it doesn’t have to be done in the morning. It would be pretty to do at night,” she thought allowed. 

He chuckled softly, barely loud enough for it to be audible to her, before he asked, “What are you thinking about doing, Betts?” 

Her heart fluttered at the nickname and she shrugged. “It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, not freezing cold, so I was thinking maybe one last picnic before the first snowfall.” 

“A fall picnic?” Amusement was running through his voice and she grinned at the noise. “That is one of the most Betty Cooper things I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” 

She sat up slightly, crossing her legs. “Does it sound like fun?” 

“Well, no.” She frowned, her ego getting bruised. “I’m not one for picnics but I have heard of this guy who kinda has a soft spot for a girl and would do anything to make her happy so I’ll check to see if he can come instead.” 

_Soft spot_ , she thought, a smile cracking her face. _He just admitted he has a soft spot for me._

“Okay,” she answered, hiding her excitement. “You check with him and let me know what he says.” 

“Will do,” he responded delicately. 

They got lost in conversation for hours afterwards, spending most of the night on the phone talking about anything and everything they could think of. 

_October 27th_

Jughead opened a bag of chips, shaking his head. “I swear,” he started with a chuckle. “You dress younger and younger the more I see you.” Betty’s jaw slacked and she scoffed, frowning. “Oh, stop. I think it’s cute,” 

She narrowed her eyes, snarling slightly. “We do not bash my outfits.” 

“You’re wearing frilly socks,” he pointed out, nodding towards her ankles. 

“Oh!” She shoved his arm, huffing. “If I want to wear frilly socks, then I shall!” 

He laughed, eating a chip. “Cute,” she snarled again and he laughed harder. “Stop trying. You don’t look scary, you just look adorable.” 

She looked away from him as a blush covered her face, laying back on the blanket. “I think I look good,” she murmured, crossing her arms. 

“I never said you looked bad,” he scoffed. “I specifically remember telling you I think it’s cute.”

“You’re using that word too much. For someone who reads so many books,” she raised up on her elbows, raising a challenging brow. “You know very few words.” 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes jokingly. “I know enough words to make you think I’m picking on you for your frilly socks.” 

She groaned, laying back down on the blanket. The sun was starting to set and the sky was starting to go from a blue to a deep purple. The disappearing sun was casting an orange glow over the clouds and Betty watched it all intently. 

Jughead came and laid back beside her and she shoved his bag of chips away. “Silence is key in these moments,” she sassed. “Shut up.” 

“Yes, boss Betty.” She gave him an amused look and he smiled boyishly. “Do you prefer queen?” 

“Quiet,” she laughed. “Watch the sunset.” He narrowed his eyes and she narrowed her eyes back. “Go on,” she teased. He shrugged, blinking at her. “Fine, I will.” She looked back up at the sky and Jughead hid back his protest that he wanted to blurt out. He watched her for a second longer, adjusting himself and looking up at the sky. 

Suddenly, his phone rang loudly, both of them jolting at the noise. Betty’s head knocked into his from how close they were and she shouted out, “Ow!”

“Shit,” he grunted. “I’m sorry.” He scrambled up to his knees and she sat up. “Are-Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “The impact scared me more than it hurt.” 

He nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket and stepping away. He answered it with a deep breath, clearing his throat before he said, “Hello?” 

A woman's voice cut in and he furrowed his brows. A real person never calls. 

“I'm going to start out with an apology for the late call,” she sighed. She seemed stressed just by the way her voice started to falter. “Busy and long day.” He nodded at the words, checking over his shoulder. Betty was packing up the picnic, complaining to herself under her breath. 

“Okay,” the woman breathed over the phone. “When is the best time for you to come in and talk about your scans with our oncologist?” His heart fell into his stomach. 

The oncologist. He’s going to have to talk to the oncologist. So, it’s back or it could be a new kind of cancer and it could slowly be eating him alive—which he’s sure it was. 

“What times do you have for Monday?” 

“Oh,” she whined. “We don’t have anything available until the 31st. I know that’s Halloween so I understand if you can’t come in.” 

He sighed, looking back over his shoulder at Betty. She cocked her head to the side, raising a brow. She was ready to go home and so was he. 

He looked at the ground, sighing. “It’s fine, do you have something for, like, 10 am, maybe?” 

“We have a slot for noon, does that work?” 

He nodded, breathing deeply. “Yeah,” he muttered weakly. “That seems good.” He drowned her out as she confirmed his appointment and told him details he didn’t really need to know. He ended the call as she continued to drone on, pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

Betty furrowed her brows, giving Jughead a questioning look. “Who was that?” she asked softly, tucking a curl off of his forehead and back into his hat. 

“No one,” he assured. “Just an appointment check.” 

“This late?” she questioned incredulously. 

He shrugged, mumbling, “Busy day, I guess.” 

She shrugged herself, linking her arm through his. “Well, as long as you’re okay, then let's go.” He chuckled, chewing his lip as he stared down at the ground, watching his feet as they walked. “You are okay, right?” 

He was startled by her words, his head turning to look at her quicker than he had ever moved before. Her eyes were nervous and questioning, her lip held tightly between her teeth. 

_No_ , he answered in his head because he’s not. You’re never okay if they want you to discuss your scans with our oncologist. But she doesn’t need to know about that, he can’t take away her sparkling personality and turn her into an ailing friend who only wants to take care of him—if that’s what she would do.

“Yeah,” he nodded, giving her a smile. “I’m okay. Just another follow-up from my check up the other day. I have this, like… mole or something. I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

She shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked slowly, as if she wasn’t certain if she should say it or not. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, Betts. I’ll be fine, promise.” 

She nodded, squeezing his arm. “If you insist,” she giggled and he grinned, his heart sinking all over again. There’s no way he wasn’t dying, and when he was younger, dying seemed calming, refreshing. But now, it seemed noisy, terrifying and painful. 

_October 31st_

Jughead sighed, adjusting in bed and staring up at the ceiling. Maybe if he avoided the appointment he could avoid the scans, and the diagnosis, and the prognosis, and the time he has left to live, and all that mumbo jumbo bullshit. He would also get to avoid ever having to tell Betty because there would be nothing to tell her. 

Whoever thinks avoiding your problems is bad, is completely wrong. More good would obviously come out of it than bad. Well, besides not having a specific life expectancy, but still. No one without a brain tumor knows that any way.

His alarm rang beside him and he groaned as he rolled towards his nightstand, grabbing his phone and powering it off. He didn’t want to take a chance of Betty calling and having to talk to her, he couldn’t stomach it that morning. 

The rain outside was ironic to him. It was raining on the day that he was most likely going to be told that he had so many months to live. It was bullshit, everything that life consisted of was bullshit. 

Your organs, the things that keep you alive, get these masses and diseases that can kill you. Or you could have the hiccups then two minutes later, you’re stuck puking up blood. It’s all dumb houdini bullshit. 

With a groan, he forced himself out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom. As he turned on the shower he took a glance at himself in the mirror. They’re going to put surgery on the table no doubt. Which would mean another scar and who the hell knows where that ones going to be. 

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head as he pulled his shirt off. Maybe he’d get high just so he doesn’t have to remember anything that happens.

~

Jughead walked into the hospital, cringing at the scent. It was too sterile, too clean. Can’t they light some candles or something? 

He adjusted his hat as he moved to the stairs. The longer it took him to get to the oncology floor, the better. Everyone who worked there was always saying ‘things could be worse’ and they could, sure, but you don’t say that to a person who just found out they’re dying, asshole. 

All their grins were fake and they seemed like the people who believe that cancer is contagious. For two years he watched them waltz around, telling everyone just how great their lives will be once their cancer’s gone. Then he’s watched the same nurses wheel their lifeless bodies out of their room. Really great life, huh?

He stared at the door. He was already there and now he hates the person who put oncology on the second floor. In his mind, they’re a bastard and he doesn’t ever want to speak to them. 

The door creaked loudly as he pulled it open and it slammed shut, notifying the whole floor he was there. People in the waiting room turned to look at him. Some were children (the thought made him sick and he’d take all of their unneeded pain away if he could. No child deserves to get cancer), some were men who just looked pissed off (he gets where they’re coming from—if they’re patients), others were women with scarves wrapped around their heads. 

He never understood the hairloss part. He hadn’t suffered from it and he was grateful. He’d look stupid without hair. But the big thing he didn’t understand was that during his chemo treatment, one of his friends came in with a full head of hair one day, then the next it was gone. They were getting the same treatment, so why hadn’t that happened to him? 

He thought it was unfair. They’re already going through so much pain and already losing so much, why does the one thing most people use to express themselves have to be taken away as well?

The lady at the desk smiled up at him tiredly, he gave a weak smile back. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

_Sweetheart_ , he repeated in his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he was called sweetheart by anyone. 

“Forsythe.” He fixed the back of his hat, feeling the eyes behind him burning into his skull. It was nerve wracking, he felt like he was doing something illegal. “I-I can spell it,” he whispered as he watched her cringe at the spelling on the screen. 

“Please,” she responded with a nod. 

“Uh, F-O-R-S-Y-T-H-E.” He rocked on his feet, looking over his shoulder. More people were crowding into the floor and _Jesus Christ, is it hot in here?_ , he thought.

He tugged the hem of his shirt away from his neck, clearing his throat. “Ah, here you are,” she laughed. Her smile turned somber and she motioned for his hand as she pulled a bracelet out of the small machine beside her. 

He pulled up his sleeve so it sat just below his elbow, holding out his arm. She attached the bracelet around his wrist, throwing the excess in what he assumed is a trash bin under her desk. “Your doctor should be coming out any moment to get you. Have a nice day.” 

“Yeah, you too,” he mumbled with a small smile. She was sweet, far too sweet to be working on this floor. 

It felt as soon as he sat down, a doctor appeared from a small hall and called out his name shakily—he didn’t pronounce it right. Jughead just sighed, pulling the sleeve of his shirt and jacket down as he walked over to him. 

“You must be Forsythe,” (he said it right this time). “Follow me.” The doctor turned away and Jughead followed close behind, stepping into the room he guided him to. As Jughead sat down on the table, the doctor said, “The oncologist will be in any moment.” 

That any moment turned into a two hour wait and Jughead wasn’t mad, he had read most of his book while he was waiting. But he was nervous. 

On one end, it was because he didn’t want to hear his diagnosis, he didn’t want to know what was going to happen to him. On the other, it was because he was supposed to be at Betty’s by 5 and he wasn’t sure he would be ready by then but he would hate to disappoint her. 

He hid his book behind himself when there was a knock on the door and he straightened his back when it was opened. The oncologist stepped in with a folder in his hands, nodding towards Jughead. 

“Dr. Murphy,” he said, holding out his hand to Jughead who shook it once before sitting on his hands. He wanted to ask where his old doctor, Dr. Hoffman, was but he supposed that children and adults had two separate oncologists. 

Dr. Murphy cleared his throat, setting the folder on the counter and opening it. “How have you been?” he asked as if they were friends catching up. 

Jughead shrugged. “Satisfactory.” The doctor chuckled at his response and Jughead rolled his eyes. He’d rather be wearing his ridiculous costume right now than doing this. 

Dr. Murphy cleared his throat and Jughead wanted to tell him to take a drink. He doesn’t think it’s healthy to be doing that that often. He put his scans up and Jughead’s eyes went wide. He’s definitely dying. 

He switched the light on, sighing as he turned to face Jughead who was just staring at it in shock. “It’s bad to say the least,” Dr. Murphy sighed. “You have the deadliest brain tumor in the world.” 

Jughead felt his stomach churn at how at ease he was with saying those words. He gets that he deals with shit like this, but hell, give the patient some sympathy. 

“So I am going to die,” Jughead stated. It was weird saying those words for the first time. He _is_ going to die and he’s known that his whole life, but actually knowing it was coming near made the words that much more horrifying. 

Dr. Murphy sighed, itching the back of his head as he sat down on the stool in the room. “You have a GBM, which is a glioblastoma multiforme. It’s grade 4 which is the worst and it can’t be resected, there’s no clear margins.” 

“I’m dying,” Jughead stated firmly, wanting to hear it from the doctor. 

Dr. Murphy sucked his teeth, looking away from Jughead and at the scan. “Yes, you are.” Jughead nodded, dropping his head into his head for a moment before he rested his chin on his hands. “You have options-”

“I don’t,” Jughead interrupted quickly. He shook his head, straightening and rubbing his hands over his thighs. “I don’t have options, okay? You are a doctor, of course you’re going to say I have options. You’re gonna say that chemo and radiation are going to make my life better, but they’re not. Everyone knows that but they all just listen to the doctor because you guys supposedly know best, right?” 

Dr. Murphy sighed and Jughead shrugged. “Listen. I don’t want to hear bullshit, I don’t want to hear the speech where you tell me I can get married and have a family and be okay for years and years to come. I heard that once, I was 15 so it was a dream. I don’t want to hear now, especially when you came in here and told me that I have the deadliest tumor in the world.” Jughead scoffed, shaking his head. “How long until my symptoms are going to be bad? Or just… when am I going to die?” 

“You really want to know that? You’re young,” 

“Don’t tell me young like I don’t know that.” Jughead was tired of the crap, he wanted to know so he could go out and live the rest of his life. “I’m 18, not 8. How long?” 

His doctor sighed and stood up, pulling the scans off of the light box. He tucked them in the folder, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. “12 months at most, you’d be bedbound by then. In the last 4 weeks, you’ll usually be very tired which is always expected, you’ll have trouble swallowing, you may develop epilepsy but that can happen earlier on as well, and your headaches will get significantly worse. Other things that may happen are agitation, agonal breathing, hallucinations, and your vision may go.” 

“Okay,” Jughead sighed. “So, what would happen, like, a month from then?” 

“You’ll gradually get weaker with time and all these symptoms will make themselves more present with time as well. You’ll have a high, a really good week or month, then you’ll crash and-and quickly. This can happen… days from now, it can happen closer to 12 months, we can’t tell you when that will happen.” 

Jughead breathed deeply, looking down at his hands. “Can I sign a DNR now?” 

Dr. Murphy’s eyes widened and he straightened. “You’re making these decisions really fast. There’s no one you want to consult with…?” Jughead shook his head slowly, fixing his hat. “You want a DNR?” 

“Yes, I do. I don’t want to end up like that, it sounds like it’s more pain than it’s worth.” 

He sighed, shrugging. “Don’t you have family-” 

“Do I look like someone who has family? Let's be honest here, don’t you think if I had family they’d be here with me?” Dr. Murphy sighed again, wiping a hand over his face. “Get me the papers, please.” 

He watched Jughead for no more than a second, picking up his clipboard and shaking his head. “You signed one when you had your medulloblastoma. I don’t know why they allowed a 15 year-old to do such a thing but they did. I recommend getting a bracelet, one that doesn’t come off, with your name, birth date, basic information.” 

“We’re done?” Jughead muttered. Dr. Murphy nodded slowly and Jughead stood, taking his book and giving him a tight-lipped grin. “Thank you, have a good day.” 

He left the room in a flash, shuddering. He thought he wouldn’t feel like this when he got the news, but hearing it was a whole new story. 

You always think you would know what it would be like to know you’re dying. You always think that it would be nice, it would give you time to say your goodbyes and make your time left beneficial. None of that’s true. 

It’s terrifying, it’s chilling, it’s shocking. It makes you think of everything you’ve ever done—the good, bad, the okay, the fuck ups and the highs. You think of everything.

~

When he was sitting on the bus, watching other cars go by, the severity of the situation hit him. He had a mass eating away at his brain, giving him headaches, giving him mood swings, blurring his vision. It was inoperable, it would never go away, and it was going to kill him in a matter of months. 

He’s dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was the second chapter! Things are moving kind of fast, but that may just be me because I’ve never written a fic with chapters as long as this one. I really hope y’all are enjoying this story. All of your kudos and comments are appreciated!!  
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	3. Drunk on Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_October 31st_

Betty sighed deeply, looking out the window for what must have been the 50th time. It was almost 6 o’clock and Jughead was supposed to be there an hour ago. She had tried calling but it went straight to voicemail and the thought that wanted to taint her mind was too much for her to handle. 

She whined as she stepped away from the window, stepping into her mirror and fixing the front of her dress. Maybe he backed out, maybe this was too much for him. She knew suggesting that they should do this was a bad idea. 

A sharp ping hit her window and she inhaled, turning towards it. She stepped over to it, moving away quickly when another small pebble hit her window. A moment later, she pushed it open, grinning at Jughead standing in his costume. 

“I’m sorry,” he winced, sighing. “I got caught up with some things.”

She closed the window, hurrying down the stairs quickly. “Slow down, Elizabeth,” her mother called from the laundry room downstairs. 

“Sorry!” she yelled back, unlocking the door and pulling it open. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked before grunting as she threw herself into his arms, holding him close. He laughed, hugging her back but not nearly as tight. “What’s this all about?” 

“I don’t know,” she said into his neck, the words getting muffled. He laughed again, setting her back on the ground. “I thought something may have happened, your phones gone to voicemail all day, Jug.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s powered off. I haven’t had much need for it today, it’s just been more of a hassle than a necessity.” She nodded, running her eyes over him. “Your dress looks good.” 

“You look very handsome yourself.” He smirked and she giggled. “It fits okay?” 

“Mm-hm, it fits well.” She smoothed his shoulders, squealing and jumping around after a moment. “Have you eaten too much candy already?” 

“Hey, rude,” she joked. “And I have only had one piece, for your information. I’m just excited, I love Halloween!” 

He grinned, shaking his head a little as they stepped into the house. She shoved a bowl of candy into his hand and grabbed a blanket off the back of her couch, slipping her shoes on. 

They moved back outside and she motioned to the chairs and table at the bottom of the steps. “You sit there,” she said as she pointed to the chair on the left, “and the candy goes here,” she whispered to herself, taking the bowl from him and setting it down gently. 

She smoothed her dress down as she sat in her chair, sighing. “Okay,” she mumbled, nodding. “We’re all ready.” 

“What are we supposed to do now?” he asked, already bored but he wouldn’t voice that to her. “Do we just… wait?” 

“Yeah, sort of.” She shrugged, fixing the ribbon on her dress. “People will be out any minute so it won’t be long.” 

“What do we do afterwards?” She looked over at him like she was taken off guard and he adjusted uncomfortably. “I can just… go home.” 

She glanced away from him, shrugging again. “It’ll be a little late to do that, don’t you think?” 

He furrowed his brows, giving her a questioning glance. “How long are you planning on staying out here?” 

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “An hour or two, maybe. I wouldn’t feel okay with you walking home alone when it’s that dark out, Jug. Especially to the Southside,” 

He smirked, joking, “I’m _great_ at protecting myself against violent street crimes, Betts. They won’t be able to take me on with my extraordinary karate skills.” 

He sliced the air and she laughed, slipping off her shoes and tucking her legs under herself. “Karate?” she asked a moment later. 

“Two years,” he answered, chuckling. “Green belt.” 

“Wow,” she laughed. “You actually did a sport.” 

He narrowed his eyes, scoffing, “Quiet.” They both laughed, Betty biting her lip after a moment. 

Two kids skipped up the walkway and they gave each other one last lingering glance before they gave the young boy and girl welcoming smiles, Jughead holding the bowl of candy out to them. 

~

Jughead shook Betty awake and she gasped, sitting up straight. “I’m up,” she shouted, blinking. “I’m up.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, let's go inside. It's freezing out here anyway.” She stretched, whining softly before she stood up. 

“How long have I been asleep?” she mumbled, her voice groggy. 

He shrugged. “Not that long,” he answered, his hand on the small of her back as he guided her inside. “Just a few minutes at most. If you were tired, why didn’t you just say something?” 

She gave a weak shrug as a response, pushing her bedroom door open. She sat on the foot of her bed, covering her face with her hands as she yawned. She groaned a second later, falling back on her bed. 

“Do you want me to get you pajamas?” 

She sighed, nodding. “Just a… t-shirt. They’re in that drawer,” she yawned again as she blindly pointed to the fourth drawer of her dresser. 

“No pants, shorts?” She shook her head, undoing the front of her dress and pulling it down off of her shoulders. He turned away from her quickly, pulling the drawer open and grabbing the first t-shirt his eyes landed on. 

He cleared his throat, turning towards her cautiously. He breathed deeply, keeping his distance as he handed her her shirt, ignoring how she was topless and standing in just her underwear. He wasn’t sure if she was too drowsy to realize what she was doing, or if she knew exactly what she was doing but was too exhausted to care. 

The shirt had messed up the braid in her hair as she pulled it on, making a few strands fall loose to frame her face. Feelings that he knew he had for her started to bloom larger than they ever had before and the thought of that was odd to him, though he welcomed it—something he never thought he would do. 

“I don’t want you walking home,” Betty stated as she moved the blankets back on her bed, plucking pillows off and dropping them on the ground. “It’s too far and it’s too late. If something bad happens to you, I’m going to blame myself.” 

“No, Betts,” he sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “I’ll be fine, really.” 

“Jug, please?” she whispered, her eyes worried. “You can just… make a bed here on the floor or sleep with me, the beds big enough. You can sleep downstairs on the couch even if that seems more your speed, I’ll deal with my parents in the morning.” 

He breathed deeply, shaking his head. “Everyone knows me on the Southside, no one’s going to hurt me. And I have nothing to change into anyway. I can walk home and call you when I get there.” 

“Charles old clothes, they’re-they’re right across the hall,” she exclaimed, letting out a long breath. “Jughead, just stay. I’m not trying to… get you into bed and stuff, I just want you to be safe. Please.” She whispered out the plea, her eyes shining. 

He stared at her for long minutes, Betty chewing her lip nervously. He huffed and groaned, stating, “I am not wearing your brothers clothes.” She laughed, letting out a breath of relief. “And I’m going to be out of here by four.” 

“I don’t care!” she shouted excitedly. They both chuckled and she bit her lip. “Do you want to… sleep with me?” She raised a questioning brow, a flush covering her cheeks. 

He shrugged, swallowing thickly. “Do you want me… to?” 

She looked at the bed, tucking hair behind her ear. “I mean,” she sighed, pulling the hem of her shirt down. “There’s enough room for the both of us.” 

“You’ve already said that,” he pointed out, a flush covering his face also. She nodded, chewing her lip. “I’ll just…” he cleared his throat, toying with the back of his hat. “Stay close to the, uh, edge.” 

She nodded, fixing the pillows. “Yeah,” she breathed, nodding again. “O-Okay.” Jughead breathed deeply, walking over to the side of the bed Betty wasn’t shakily climbing into. 

He peeled off the vest and button down he had on, adjusting his t-shirt down over his stomach. He was self-concious about himself like he had never been before and he didn’t know if it was because they were about to sleep in the same bed, or if it was because they were about to share the same fucking bed. 

He slowly pulled his pants off so he was just in his boxers, picking everything up off the floor and folding it neatly. He set everything on the floor beside her bed, taking off his hat and placing it on top of everything. 

“Do you want me to just…” he cleared his throat, blushing red from his chest to his ears. “Just lay down?” 

Betty nodded without looking at him, continuing to lay on her left side with her hand tucked under her pillow. She was watching the wall, breathing deeply, every amount of ‘coolness’ she ever had flying out the window. 

She inhaled deeply when she felt the bed sink beside her, swallowing thickly and biting her lip to not make any noise. The stiffness that was in his body was obvious and she could feel the nerves radiating off of him. Could he feel _her_ nerves? 

“Goodnight,” she whispered into the dark, hoping he’d hear it. 

The air between them was tense until he hoarsely responded, “Goodnight.” Betty let out a small silent breath of relief, squeezing her blanket to her chest. 

The gap between them was larger than it needed to be, almost 2 and a half feet wide. They were both on their sides, their hands under their pillows and under their heads. It seemed as if they didn’t want to touch each other, when they both felt the opposite of that. The need to touch each other was too strong and neither of them knew what to do about it. 

This was their only way to keep it from sparking a forest fire they couldn’t put out. 

_November 1st_

When Jughead woke up, it was later than he wanted it to be. The sun was already up in the sky, shining through Betty’s sheer curtains. It casted a peach glow over the room, the yellow of the sun mixing with the pink of the curtains. 

He let out a hushed groan, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t brought his phone, that was still tucked away in his nightstand, and he had no idea what time it was. Betty didn’t have an alarm clock anywhere and he wasn’t going to turn on her phone, that’s weird. 

Betty whimpered when he stood up and he furrowed his brows, glancing over his shoulder. She was still asleep but it seemed as if she was relishing in the extra bed room. They had stayed far apart all night, their legs only brushing against each other once and that touch had them each wide awake, mumbling sorry’s to each other. 

He sighed deeply, pulling back on his pants and button down, though he didn’t button it. He draped his vest over his arm before he slipped his shoes back on. He moved to the window quickly, freezing when he placed his hands on the sill. Glancing over his shoulder at Betty had his heart suddenly racing and his blood pumping through his body, pounding in his ears. 

He was seeing her at one of her most vulnerable states. The thought was chilling and he shivered. He felt like he shouldn’t be there, he felt like he was creeping into a piece of her life he was never meant to see. 

When he glanced back at the window, his heart pulled. He wanted to stay, he wanted to stay with her. When he was with Betty, everything went away. His brain tumor, his past, the inevitable future—it all went away. But as soon as he stepped outside, as soon as he took in the morning air, it would all come back at a painful speed and would knock the wind out of him for just a moment. 

He would stagger, hold onto the window as he caught himself. He would breathe deeply, partially because his lungs were struggling to be filled with a single breath alone and partially because he wouldn’t believe he was alive, breathing. 

If he stayed, he risked getting Betty in trouble. If he didn’t stay, Betty would be fine but he would feel out of place, like he shouldn’t even be there. 

He should have died three years ago, there on the surgical table. He should have gone then, should have let everyone off the hook early. 

Jughead lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall and bringing his knees up. He crossed his arms over them, resting his head down. The thought of leaving her alone was plaguing him and he couldn’t understand why. It’s not like she’s not safe, she’s tucked into her bed with a roof over her head—she’s completely safe. 

“Fuck,” he grumbled under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He pushed himself up off the floor, tugging his hat over his head. He shoved the window open, climbing out of it and closing it carefully so he didn’t make any noise when he did so. 

He glanced over the edge of the roof at the ground below, squeezing his eyes closed. He wasn’t one to go out of his way to be high up. 

Jughead ignored the ground as he scaled down the side of the house, huffing when his feet hit the ground. He brushed off his shirts, sighing. That was one thing he never wanted to do again. 

~

Betty frowned at her phone when none of her messages delivered to Jughead and she tossed her phone on her bed. She thought that he would maybe wake her up and tell her goodbye, but he hadn’t done anything of the sorts. He hadn’t even texted and it upset her to a certain extent. 

She looked out the window at the downpour outside. It had been raining all day, never giving up. It was dark out already (because for some reason the sun loved to set before 5) and her mom wasn’t going to let her out of the house, not to go to the Southside at least. 

Her eyes moved over to the window that was still slightly cracked from Jughead leaving that morning. She thinks he thought he had shut it all the way, but she knows that he hadn’t. She meant to shut it, because it was freezing outside, but she never ended up doing so. 

The knock on her door peeled her eyes off of the window, a smile crossing her face when her mother walked in, Betty’s laundry basket under her arm. Alice smiled back, setting the basket on Betty’s vanity.

“Put those away then go to sleep,” her mother instructed with a nod. “Goodnight.” 

Betty nodded, whispering, “Goodnight.” 

Her eyes followed her mom as she left the room and closed the door. She was out of her bed in a flash, putting away her clothes just as fast so if her mom happened to find her empty bed, she couldn’t be mad at her for not putting her clothes away. 

When that was finished, she pulled a jacket out of her closet and pulled it on. She jumped into shoes, picking up her phone before moving to the window. As she opened it, she watched over her shoulder, flipping the hood of her sweatshirt up. 

Thunder cracked as she straddled the window sill, carefully moving out of the window. She closed it, leaving it cracked so she could get back in later. She stayed close to her window as she took in the shining roof tiles, squinting against the rain. 

Her eyes were closed tightly as she climbed down the edge of the house, just feeling her way around until she felt her feet hit the ground. She cringed a little at the mud that covered the sole of her shoes but shrugged it off. They could be washed later. 

~

Jughead looked over his shoulder when there was a knock on his door, peeling the curtain away from the window and glancing outside. Betty was bouncing on her feet on the porch, dripping wet from the rain as her teeth chattered. 

“Jesus,” he whispered as he set his takeout on the coffee table, muting the TV as he stood up. He walked over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. He pulled it hard enough to make Betty gasp and he sighed. “It gets stuck,” he explained. “Rain fucks with this whole place. Get inside, you’re freezing.” 

She kicked her shoes off, leaving them outside as she stepped up into the trailer. He shoved the door closed, stepping around the small puddle she was already starting to make on the floor. 

“Why-Why didn’t you c-call?” she asked through a shiver. “I-I’ve been worried all-all day.” 

He winced silently as he stepped away, swallowing thickly. “Can we talk about this after you’re done shaking?” She groaned, rubbing her hands quickly over her arms. “Let me grab you clothes…” 

Betty pulled off of her drenched coat as he walked away, into his bedroom. He opened his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt, sweatpants and boxers just in case. He closed the drawer with his hip, letting out a deep breath as he walked back into the kitchen. 

“You can put your clothes in the washer when you’re done changing,” he muttered. She nodded with another shiver, taking the clothes he handed her. 

He picked her sweatshirt up off the ground in the kitchen, putting it in the washer before walking into his room and grabbing some of his own clothes. He put in the laundry soap, making it so she just had to put in her own clothes and start it. 

When he went back to the living room, he picked up the takeout and turned off the TV. As he was throwing it away, the bathroom door opened and Betty stepped out. “Put them in and start it.” She nodded at his words, doing as he said before she wrapped her arms around herself. 

Her hair was down around her shoulders, drying. Her face was cleaned of the mascara that was under her eyes from the rain and her jewelry was gone as well. She was a blank slate and he had never really seen her like this. 

Sure, he’s seen her with her hair down and her makeup off, but her jewelry was glued to her like it was her lifeline. Seeing her without it made him feel like he was seeing a new side of her. 

He cleared his throat, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you want something warm to drink or-or eat, maybe?” 

She shrugged, still rubbing her hands over her arms. “Do you have hot chocolate?” she asked sheepishly. 

He smiled, nodding as he chuckled, “I in fact do.” 

“Can I have some?” Something lit up in her (even if it was still dull) and it made his heart pound. 

“I’ll make some,” he answered. “Go wrap yourself in a blanket or something, you’re still shivering.” 

“It’s a little chilly in here,” she admitted, her voice guarded. He could tell she felt bad for saying it.

He shrugged as he filled the kettle, turning on the stove. “Heater isn’t the best,” he responded apologetically. “I can get you a sweatshirt. Do you want one?” She nodded as she sat down on the stool that sat on the other side of the counter, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. 

She watched the kettle on the stove, her eyes moving back to Jughead as he came walking out of his room. He had a sweatshirt on himself now and she took the one he was holding out to her with a thankful grin. 

Jughead sat on the counter, the two of them watching each other until they laughed. “Um,” she giggled, sighing. “Your phone, it’s still off?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning against the cupboards and crossing his arms over his chest. “I meant to call or text, but I don’t know. I like not having a phone on me 24/7, I kinda forgot I even have one. It’s probably dead by now, too.” 

“Looks like you gotta invest in a house phone, Jug.” He chuckled and she bit her lip. “You got home safe?” 

“Yep, I was perfectly fine.” She nodded, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t wake you up when I left, did I?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s kind of why I was worried. I thought you would have woken me up and told me goodbye, but you hadn’t.” 

“I wanted to let you sleep,” he mumbled. “You had school and everything.” He scoffed and she furrowed her brows. “How’s school?” 

“It’s not horrible, just boring.” He nodded and she sighed. “You should have stayed, Jug.” 

He shook his head, looking at the floor. “No, I shouldn’t have. Not having to worry about school is… refreshing.” 

“But you need school, Jug.” 

_Not where I’m going_ , he thought to himself.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. She gave him a questioning look, raising her brow. 

She giggled out, “What?” 

He sighed, straightening a little. “Where do you want to go, what do you want to see?” 

“Like, throughout the world?” He nodded, watching her. “I don’t know, it’s a pretty basic list. Italy, eiffel tower, that stuff.” He nodded again, chewing his lip. “Why?” she asked softly. 

He shrugged, the kettle starting to whistle. “No reason.” She watched him as he made the hot chocolate, thanking him when he passed the cup to her. “Would you go if you could?” 

She sighed, clenching her jaw. “Jughead…” she gripped the edge of the counter, giving him a weird look. “What the hell are you saying?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Can you answer my question?” 

“Jughead, your question is weird. Yes, I’d go, I guess but… where the hell is it coming from?” He looked taken aback and she let out a deep breath. “You dropout of school and now you’re… acting like you’re planning a trip. I don’t get it, Jug, what are you doing?” 

He shrugged, adjusting his hat. “Maybe I’m tired of… being here. Is that wrong?” 

“You’re a teenager-” 

“I am not-” he cut himself off as the words came out as a shout, turning around and wiping a hand over his mouth. “I am not a fucking teenager, okay? I know what I’m doing-”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “No, you don’t.” 

“I don’t want to sit at a desk all day, okay? Maybe you do, maybe that’s all you want to see, but that’s _never_ been what I want. I want to see shit, Betty. I want to fuck up and I want make mistakes but you can’t make any fucking mistakes when you’re trying to fix the mistakes your own father made!” She sighed, shaking her head. “You said you would run away with me if I asked and now I’m asking and you’re looking at me like I’m psychotic!”

“Jughead,” she said his name like how a mother would to a child throwing a tantrum and he huffed, violently sitting down into a dining room chair. “You’re 18, and I get it, you don’t want to sit and learn—nobody does. But Jug, you gotta look at what you’re doing. You act like you’re losing your mind.” 

“That’s what you think is happening?” he asked incredulously when he looked over at her. “Seriously?” 

“I didn’t say that,” she explained and he scoffed. “But this is a symptom-” 

He stood up abruptly, screaming, “I’m not losing my mind! Fuck!” Her face stayed cold like she was expecting this. He wiped his hands over his face, hating how he was acting. 

“I’m not losing my mind,” he whispered after a minute. “I’m living.” There were tears in his eyes when he turned to face her and she took in a deep breath. “You may think I’m losing my mind, but I’m not. I am not crazy, I have…” he stuttered over his words, rubbing his eyes before he sighed. “I have my reasons, okay?” 

“What are your reasons then?” she asked softly. She was shaking, afraid that he may get in her face again, but she was proud of herself for not showing as much in her voice. 

He sat back down in the chair, looking down at his hands. “I can’t tell you, I’m not ready to.” 

He felt uneasy when she didn’t respond until he heard her sit down in the chair across from him. He looked up at her slowly and she let out a deep breath. “I can’t just leave, Jug. You don’t have family, I do.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Jug,” she said firmly and he clenched his jaw. “I can’t leave my mom like that. I’m all she has, my dads gone, my sister’s gone. Do you know how worried sick she would be if I suddenly was too?” 

He looked down at his hands in disappointment and she brought her knees up to her chest. “I thought you were joking,” she started after a few moments. “When you asked me to run away before. I mean, Jug, that’s a lot to ask someone. Can’t we wait until I finish school at least?” 

“We don’t have that much time,” he mumbled and it was incoherent to her. “I can go alone,” he stated, sighing. 

“No, Jug.” She let out a deep breath, brushing her hair out of her face. “If we… Jughead, I cannot just leave like how you want me to.” 

“Then-Then let me deal with your mom,” he pleaded. “Betty, I can’t… let me, okay?” 

“She’s stubborn,” she sighed, shaking her head lightly. “It’s not going to be easy at all. It’s not gonna matter what you tell her, she’s not going to let me go. I mean, if you really want this, you’re gonna have to…” she shrugged, scoffing. “Tell her you’re dying just to get her to think about it—and that’s disgusting to lie about.” 

He chewed his lip, leaning back in his seat. “Let me worry about what I’m going to say, okay?” 

“People are going to think we’re some crazed high school romance.” 

“We’re not… in a relationship,” he whispered, disappointment appearing in his tone. 

She shrugged. “They don’t have to know that.” He looked up at her and she blushed a little. “I’m-I’m just… saying.” 

He nodded, going back to watching his hands. “So, um…” he shrugged, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Are you gonna sleep here?” 

“Oh,” she whispered, shrugging and picking at the blanket she had draped over her legs. “Is it okay if I do? It’s just… well, it’s cold and my clothes…” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I-I don’t mind. You can… you can take my bed.” 

“I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed, Jug.” Betty sighed, adjusting in her seat. “We can just do what we did last night. I’ll be gone before you even remember I was here because of school.” 

“You could always skip.” She gave him a questioning look and he just shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know.” 

“I could…” she whispered, tucking hair behind her ear. “We’ll just see how the morning goes.” 

He nodded, standing out of his chair. “You can go in there. I’ll… I’ll be in soon.” 

“Okay,” she breathed, standing herself. “Can I…?” She pointed to the blanket and he nodded, fixing his hat. She moved towards the hall, pausing and turning to glance at him as she asked, “Why aren’t you coming in now?”

He inhaled slowly, shrugging and tucking his hands in his pockets. “No reason,” he mumbled, turning to face her. “Just, uh, not ready.” 

She gave a hesitant nod, Jughead watching her move into the bedroom. He watched the door shut, letting out a long breath. He turned and grabbed the cigarettes he had stashed away on top of his fridge, grabbing the lighter that sat on his kitchen counter. 

The rain was still coming down hard when he stepped outside, cigarettes and lighter in hand. He squinted as he stayed close to the door, the sound of the rain echoing off the tin roof making his head pound. It wasn’t pleasant, but he’d deal—he was giving up on fighting the pain, it wasn’t worth it. 

He looked at the cigarettes he had in hand, sighing. He had only ever smoked twice. Once when he was 10—took a cigarette from his dad—then another time when he was 15. His dad had heard that smoking weed could help with the side effects of chemotherapy, and he thought that a cigarette would do the same thing. 

Now he was only smoking because he knew it can control anger and he needs to stop going off on Betty for no fucking reason. She was going to get tired of it and leave him because of it at some point—he wouldn’t be able to survive that. 

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, frowning at it. It didn’t look appealing even in the slightest. He placed it in his mouth, placing the pack in his pocket. He started the lighter, lifting it to the cigarette and lighting it. 

As soon as he lit it and inhaled, he started to cough and the door opened. “What the hell are you doing?” Betty asked like a concerned mother. 

“Want it?” he smirked, still coughing. She took it from him, fanning her face as he exhaled. She snuffed it out on the porch, throwing it into the rain. He groaned, clearing his throat. 

“Why were you even smoking them?” Betty coaxed him inside and Jughead threw the pack and lighter onto the counter. “Jughead,” she said firmly. 

He shrugged, getting a glass of water. “I get pissed so I thought those would do something to help me control it.” 

“Oh my god.” Betty pinched the bridge of her nose like she was fighting off a stupidity-induced headache and Jughead watched her as he drank his water. “You’re not going to become a smoker, Jughead.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, putting his cup in the sink. “That shit fucking burns.” 

“Serves you right,” she huffed. “It taught you a lesson—as it should.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Idiot. I can’t believe you even did that!” 

“Oh, my God,” he grumbled walking back into his bedroom. 

She huffed, following him. “Cigarettes, really? Do you know how fucking deadly those things are? Jesus, you could blow your whole face off when you light one! Not to mention, they sear you lungs to dust…” He drowned her out as she continued to lecture him, getting into bed. 

He groaned as she got into bed next to him, continuing on. He shoved a pillow over his head but he could hear her through it and his head was pounding harder than it had been earlier, his ears starting to ring. 

“Jesus,” he mumbled, rolling over and glaring. “For the love of everything alive, shut up.” 

She stopped talking, frowning. “No more smoking,” she pouted. 

“Yes,” he huffed, propping himself up with his arm. “God, I’m done. Never again, I swear.” 

“You swear?” she asked, her eyes soft. 

“If it makes you be quiet, yes.” 

She frowned, huffing. “You’re mean,” she mumbled, rolling onto her side. He rolled his eyes, laying down on his side next to her, his back pressed against hers. 

The rain and thunder outside was the only sound in the room before Betty whispered, “You’re actually going to… to travel?” 

Jughead furrowed his brows, tugging on the blanket. “Yeah,” he answered. “I-I think so.” 

“You’d really take me with you?” Her voice was shaky and she seemed uncertain. He moved so he was lying on his other side and Betty was already on her side, their eyes meeting. 

Her eyes were shining (as they always were) and they seemed curious, though they were also scared. It seemed as if a cloud of nerves was brewing above her and he didn’t know how to answer. Obviously he was going to take her, he didn’t want to go without her, but maybe she didn’t want to go. 

He nodded hesitantly and she smiled slightly. “Really?” she breathed, moving closer to him. 

He could feel her breath fan his cheek and he felt himself malfunction. He started to stutter before he clamped his mouth closed, nodding again. 

“Why aren’t you talking?” she giggled, brushing hair off his forehead. 

He shrugged, struggling to swallow. “I don’t know.” He hated how hoarse his voice was but it made Betty’s eyes snap to his, her pupils swallowing the green of her eyes. 

“Where do you want to go?” Her voice, unlike his, was soft and sweet. Their voices were hushed and it made him feel childish. They were whispering as if they couldn’t wake their parents. 

He shrugged again, taking space away from the small gap between them. “Wherever you want to go.” She let out a happy breath, biting her lip as her eyes ran over his face. “Where do you want to go first?” 

“The city,” she answered quickly, not missing a beat. “I know you… mean, like, other countries, but I really want to see the city. I want to see the lights and I want to ride the ferry—I want to see a Broadway play, even. I just really wanna go to the city.” 

“Then New York City’s where we’ll go,” he said in a promising tone. She grinned and his heart skipped a beat. “Let me talk to your mom, don’t mention anything to her.” 

She sighed, her expression faltering. “Don’t hurt her, I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I’m not going to hurt her,” he muttered. “Just let me figure this out.” She seemed uneasy, like she was uncertain. “Betts, if you don’t want to go-”

“No,” she stated firmly, her hand cupping his cheek. “Jug, a lot has happened since third grade. My… perfect family became a mess, and I’m the only one left at home. I want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone, you know.” 

He nodded, flushing as she pulled her hand away. “Yeah, I-I understand.” 

Betty let out a deep breath, lying on her back. “Don’t I have to get emancipated?” she asked quietly. 

Jughead sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know. Probably.” He laid on his back, remembering _his_ emancipation process. It took 10 months in total, way longer than it should have taken (though part of that reason was his father's fault). “We don’t have that much time, though,” he insinuated. 

She huffed, looking over at him. “What does that mean? I feel like you keep saying that and I’m lost every time you do. Are we going on, like, some mission because I’m not going to help you get drugs.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he glanced over at her. “I’m… it’s part of the thing I’m not ready to talk about yet. You gotta trust me, okay? I swear, I’m not going to let _anything_ happen to you.” 

“So what do we do?” she questioned, brushing off the things he said. 

He shrugged again, looking up at the ceiling. “We… get married.” 

“Married?” she exclaimed, sitting up quickly. “Jughead, I am 17 and we’re not even together. Isn’t that, like, illegal?” He sighed, wiping his hands over his face. “We are way too young to be married, we’re not even a couple, and I don’t even think I’ve ever seen you look at a girl in a sexual way.” He gave her a glare and she shrugged. “I’m stating the obvious!” 

He sat up, an amused look plastered on his face. “We get married because if god forbid you have to go to the hospital and you need a big ass surgery or something that mommy would have to normally sign off, I’d do it instead. I would become your guardian and your husband.” 

“But it’d be backwards and that’s like… bad luck.”

“What’s backwards?” 

“We don’t feel like that… for each other.” Her voice droned out to an inaudible whisper, a blush covering each of their faces. Jughead looked away from her eyes to the bed, Betty chewing her lip. “It’d-It’d be backwards.” 

“If we don’t do this,” he started, looking back into her eyes. “I’m not going to be okay with you coming with me.” 

She cringed, questioning, “All because I won’t marry you?”

“No—fuck, Betty.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, fighting the need to choke her. He couldn’t stand when she played dumb. “I don’t feel comfortable knowing I can’t…” He let out a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “If you need an emergency surgery and you’re… not awake or something, I can’t make sure you get it. If we get married—even though it’s ‘backwards’—I can make sure you get it.” She chewed her lip and he inhaled, adding, “And if the same thing happened to me, you’d sign.” 

“So,” she said, drawing-out the o. “It’s a safety thing?” 

“Sure,” he mumbled, nodding. “Yeah,” he stated more firmly, in order to convince himself and her. 

She swallowed thickly, looking down at the blanket. “I’d be getting married… but I wouldn’t be getting married.” He clenched his jaw, a pit growing in his stomach. “I don’t want to get married yet,” she confessed quietly and he wished his vision would blur so he didn’t have to see the upset look she was wearing. 

She looked at if she was on the verge of tears and it hurt him more than the thought of getting married hurt her. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this…” he breathed and she swallowed thickly as she glanced over at him. “We can just go. We’ll just… we’ll just hope that we’ll be okay.” 

“Jug, it has nothing to do with you,” she assured, though he didn’t believe it. “I’m not ready for that. We’re… young, do we really want to be married? And we’re not even together, it’d be like a weird arranged marriage.” 

He nodded, laying down. “I understand, Betty. You don’t have to explain to me why you’re not ready to be married. You wouldn’t have to deal with me for long,” he added in a hushed mutter followed by a dark chuckle.

“What?” she asked, not catching his muffled words.

“Nothing,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Just said I’m not really ready myself.” She nodded hesitantly, laying down. 

Just as Jughead started to fall asleep, he heard Betty’s careful words asking, “Can you hold me?” He was taken off guard by the whisper and he felt his breath leave him in a gasp. Words weren’t coming to him so he rolled over and sat up so he could see her face, giving her a questioning look. 

Her eyes softened and she let out a slow breath. “I’m cold. Please?” she finished and he swallowed thickly, nodding once. 

He laid back down behind her, his hand hesitantly wrapping around her waist. He tried to ignore that he could feel her bare hip and how she entangled her legs with his without a thought. The fact that she was wearing his clothes was driving him nuts, but having her against him had him reacting like a young teenage boy who had just hit puberty—he was past that phase, this shouldn’t even bother him. 

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed when she wriggled back against him, hoping that she couldn’t feel him pressing against her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered breathily and he bit back a groan. “I was too close to the edge.” He knew it wasn’t supposed to be taken out of context, it was a completely innocent sentence, but his mind twisted it. “Do you mind moving back a little?” she added.

He did as she asked and she just moved back into him again, squeezing his hand higher up her stomach. He could feel her breasts brush his arm and he buried his head into the pillow. He never behaved or felt like this around anyone, why was she so different? 

“Do you have enough room?” she asked and her breath hitched a little when he moved his hips to get comfortable. 

_Fuck_ , he thought. 

“Jug,” she mumbled, her voice choked. “Are you…?” 

If only his fucking tumor would take him right there so he wouldn’t have to face the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. It was such a cliché. The guy who ‘never had feelings’ for the blonde girl is suddenly all hot and horny when they ‘accidentally’ have to share a bed. How the hell did _he_ get put in someone’s Wattpad fanfiction?

“Can we ignore it, please?” he grumbled. He wanted this moment to pass.

“It’s pretty hard to ignore,” she breathed, wriggling against him again. He squeezed her hip to get her to stop and she let out a slow sigh. “I did that?” 

“Betty,” he groaned. Her faux innocence was only making it worse.

“I did that,” she said in astonishment and he buried his face in the pillow again. He never wanted his tumor to take him out more than he wanted it to now. “That means…” she let out a breath and he shook his head. 

“Can we stop talking about it, _please_?” he asked firmly. “You’re acting like you’ve never… fuck.” He cut himself off, not feeling okay finishing the statement. 

“This is different,” she admitted sheepishly. Her voice was breathless and he swore if she didn’t shut up, he wasn’t going to last. 

He couldn’t peel himself away from her. She could have actually been cold, and he wasn’t going to take away what little warmth he could give her. But she could have done this just so he would embarrass himself. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, not even sure if he wants to know. She gripped his hand, squeezing. “Betty,” he tested her name on his tongue and her sigh cut through the silence. “Betty,” he said sternly and she whimpered, her hips moving back against him. “What are you doing?” 

“This is different,” she panted and he hid his face in her hair. “Touch yourself.” 

“Betty,” he gritted out. If he did it, it would change everything between the two of them. 

“Please,” she choked out, whimpering. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he whispered weakly, his reserve breaking. “It’s a bad idea, Betts.” 

She whimpered again, breathing heavily. “Please, Jug. We aren’t even looking at each other,” she explained. “It doesn’t count.” 

She rutted back against him and he groaned. “Betty, please.” He didn’t want to give in, but he was weak, he knew at some point he was going to. 

“It doesn’t have to mean something!” she shouted, her hand grabbing his and kneading it over her breast roughly. “Just do it, Jug.” 

He cursed as his free hand dipped past the waistband of his boxers, stroking his hand over himself slowly. He grunted silently, his forehead rested on her shoulder. 

“See?” she panted, moaning as she pushed her hips back. “It’s harmless.” He clenched his jaw as she kneaded her breast with his hand again and she let out a breathy whimper. “It’s harmless.” It sounded like she was trying to get herself to accept that it was, in fact, harmless, when deep down they both knew it wasn’t.

They both knew that by morning, they would be giving each other flushed glances and wouldn’t be able to look the other in the eye. They knew the air between the two of them would either be awkward or heated—no in between until they talked about what they’re doing. 

But they were both far too lost in their lust in that moment. They couldn’t even take a breath without focusing on the other. They were relying on each other—each other's movements, noises—to move them along. This would change everything, they would never be the same after this moment. 

Betty let out a cry as she came, Jughead following with a pant, thrusting into his hand. They were breathless and panting as they rolled onto their backs, watching the lifeless ceiling fan. The lightning outside would light up the room every few minutes, casting a harsh white glow over the two of them. 

He could see the flush that was covering her neck and she could see his hand, stuck to his stomach. They chose to ignore the fact that you could smell the scent of sex in the room and how it painted the walls, they would figure it out in the morning. 

“I’ll get us clothes,” Jughead muttered as he sat up. 

“I’ll change the sheets,” Betty added, sitting up herself. 

_November 2nd_

“Are you awake?” Betty whispered to Jughead. He groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. She smiled a little to herself before she frowned. She screwed up last night. She cringed as she slithered out of bed, pulling on her sweatpants as she walked to the bathroom. 

Was she embarrassed from last night? 100%. 

Was she going to make breakfast so she could avoid it and show Jughead that she was the perfectly prude mommys girl? 100%.

~

Jughead threw the pillow off of his head, groaning. “What the hell is she doing?” he thought aloud as he shook his head. He shoved the blankets off of himself, pulling his pants on. 

He walked out of the bedroom, Betty wincing as she fanned the burnt pancake that was in a pan on the stove. “Oh,” she moaned sadly, turning off the stove. “I screwed up.” 

Jughead cleared his throat and she jumped, looking over her shoulder at him. She giggled nervously, setting the towel down on the counter. She crossed her hands behind her back, giving him an innocent smile. 

“You were trying to…” he stepped over to her, picking up the pan. “Make breakfast?” 

She nodded slowly, uttering, “Yeah.” He nodded himself, throwing the pancake away. “I kinda forgot about it. I-I didn’t mean to, it just happened.” 

He nodded again, delicately setting the pan in the sink. “Why don’t we go to Pop’s? We can stop at your place so you can get clothes.”

“Well, I-I can’t go inside.” He furrowed his brows and she sighed. “My mom doesn’t leave to go to The Register until 9, and it’s only 8 and I’m supposed to be at school. Actually, I’m supposed to be leaving for school right now but I told her I left earlier to-to work on a project.” 

She seemed to cower under him and he wondered why. He knew she would act differently, but he thought she would be bossier, not anxious. 

“I have to shower so I won’t… I won't be ready until about 9 anyways,” he explained and she nodded. “Okay?” He felt like she was going to explode at any moment and it was unnerving. 

She nodded with another innocent grin and he nodded himself, walking into the bathroom. He started the shower, shaking his head incredulously. And he thought he was awkward. 

~

Betty unlocked her front door, pushing it open. Jughead trailed in behind her, shutting the door when the wind blew. “We’re sure your mom is gone?” he asked, rocking on his feet. 

“Yes,” she whispered, which meant she had no idea. “Stay there, I’ll be back.” She hurried up the stairs and he nodded. 

He paced around the entryway, taking in everything he had already seen for the tenth time. But it was the first time he realized the lack of pictures of her father. There were even a few where you could tell someone (most likely her dad) were cut out of them. 

Jughead had no idea what had happened and he had no desire to know. Dad’s tended to either be the nail that held the family together, or was the hammer ripping the nail out of existence—very rarely were they anything different. 

He heard a groan come from upstairs and he sat down on the arm of the couch, huffing. He couldn’t get what happened last night out of his head since his shower. The sounds she had made and the way she felt, it was driving him crazy all over again and he hated the fact. He didn’t want a woman to control his life, he could do things on his own (most of the time). 

He wasn’t sure how Betty saw last night or if she was thinking about it constantly, but he knew he had to say something. If he didn’t, he’d never get it out of his head and it would play her cry of ecstasy on repeat like a broken record. 

He heard a door close upstairs as he stood, Betty hurrying down the stairs. “It’s, like, 40 degrees outside,” he stated, pushing his hands in his pockets. “You’re sure you want to wear a skirt?” 

She pulled on a jacket, nodding. “It’s all I have that’s clean. My mom’s doing laundry.” 

“You’re moms always doing laundry,” he implored and she huffed. 

“It’s her way of…” she droned on, glaring at him. “Don’t talk about my mom.” 

He put his hands up by his head as if he was surrendering, mumbling, “I wasn’t planning on it.” She glared again and he chuckled. “I’m sorry but that face is doing nothing.” 

She rolled her eyes, shoving him out the door and closing it behind herself. “No more talking about my mom, I’m serious.” She gave him a stern look and he nodded. 

“I swear on my life I never plan on saying anything about your mom.” She sighed and he added, ”I have no need to.” 

They walked one in front of the other on their way to Pop’s, avoiding the elephant in the room. Betty chose to take her time and focus on not stepping in the puddles while Jughead stomped right through them, too focused on trying to ignore her moans that were playing in his head. 

He had held the door for her when they arrived, Betty thanking him with a smile. They sat down in a booth, the bubble of silence they had still growing. Jughead wasn’t even sure if his voice would work when the waitress took their order. 

The waitress took their menus with a nod and a smile, Betty straightening in her seat and folding her hands on the table. She gave Jughead an unnerving smile and he swallowed thickly, glancing over her head, partially hoping a robbery was happening outside so he could jump up and scream. That would be an effective way to avoid their very non-awaited conversation. 

Jughead cleared his throat, straightening. “Um,” he muttered, fixing his hat. “We should…” He cleared his throat again, leaning forward and whispering, “We should probably talk about last night.” 

She sighed, swallowing thickly. “What-What about last night?” He raised a brow and she flushed, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know why I-I did that—last night and just now. I was just… before I even knew that I was…” She looked up at him, letting out a deep breath as she looked back down at her hands. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You were clearly thinking about something,” he chuckled and she huffed. “Sorry,” he added in a whisper. “This makes everything between us… different, Betty. You get that, right?” 

“Does it have to be?” she asked, looking him in the eye. “Do we… have to change?”

He sighed, nodding. “Betty… most people don’t ever do that, and—I’m going to go out on a limb here but—I’m gonna say that most friends don’t do that either.” 

“You also proposed to me so…” He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know, completely different situations. I don’t know, Jug, I just… it’s not like sex, right? I mean, we-we didn’t even kiss, we barely t-touched.” She breathed deeply, letting out a slow breath. “We c-could have and, uh, we-we didn’t so it’s… um, it’s not the-the-the same,” she stammered, breathing heavily. 

“ _You_ may not think it’s the same but… that-that doesn't mean _I_ don’t think it’s the same.” 

“You think you-“ She started excitedly before she cleared her throat, sitting back in her seat. “I mean, yeah. I-I see where you… where you believe it’s the same as, uh, well, sex.” 

He raised his brow, nodding. “I’m starting to sense that you-”

“Nope, mnh-mnh.” She said with a shake of her head. “Nope,” she repeated with a giggle. “I feel nothin’ for nobody.” She nodded. “Nothin’ for anyone but myself—yep!” He raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his seat, an amused smirk on his face. “Nothin’ for… nobody.” 

He nodded, shrugging. “Yeah,” he sighed, Betty flushing. “I feel nothin’ for nobody either.” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line, nodding. “Mm-hmm. We, uh… nothin’ for no-nobody.” 

He chuckled, itching the back of his neck. “We’re both confessing-”

“In a weird way, but yes. I think so.” They both laughed, Betty’s cheeks turning a bright red 

“This is what I meant by it would change things,” he began to explain. “I knew something would come out—whether it was like this or… that we felt differently. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” 

“You were sure of it?” 

“No, but we can pretend I was.” She grinned and he chuckled, sighing. 

Betty straightened in her seat, watching her hands as she asked, “So now what? We ignore what we just said or…?” 

“We _could_ ignore it, doesn’t mean it’d work.” She shrugged and he chewed his lip. “Do you want to… ignore it?”

She shrugged. “I’m not… I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know if I can, you know? If-If I do, I’m going to be really fucking awkward because… well, you’ve heard shit not even a handful of people have heard so it’s either kill you or date you and I think the latter is the only legal option at this moment.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and he didn’t have any room to have animosity towards the way his vision started to blur and the way his ears started to ring—he was genuinely happy for the first time in days. 

“You are one hell of a woman, Betty Cooper.” She grinned and he chuckled. “I think I’m going to have to choose the latter, too. If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

“I think I can manage,” she teased, fluttering her lashes. He chuckled, smirking. “And now we clink our glasses for finality.” They both grinned as they did just that, sipping from their milkshakes before laughing. 

Jughead felt safe with her, like she was his home. 

_She was his home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of y'all are still reading this, thank you! I am so sorry for the super long wait. I am trying to write and keep a normal posting schedule, though I got distracted and school started so I haven't had much time to write. But I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading!  
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	4. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 9th_

“Hi!” Betty said in a bright and cheery voice as she approached the table. It was a family of four—two young children and their parents. She giggled and talked to the kids in her sweetest voice and Jughead smirked, drinking from the coffee cup in front of him. 

He watched her as she zipped around Pop’s, taking orders and pocketing tips as if they were meant to be secret. She looked exhausted and he felt terrible. He wasn’t the one working his ass off—he should be, but he wasn’t.

She approached his table with a grin, the coffee pot in hand. “More coffee?” she asked, stretching her neck. 

“I think so. Gotta ham out a paper.” She nodded with a giggle, filling his cup. He pulled out a five and she frowned. “Take it,” he coaxed. 

“Jug,” she whined, pouting. “I don’t want your tips. I have everyone else's.”

He pulled her towards him by the waistband of her jeans and she let out a surprised yelp as he did so. He pushed the bill into her apron, tapping her thigh. “Keep it,” he said with a wink and she huffed. 

“I don’t need it,” she explained, pulling it out. 

“Ah, ah, ah.” he tsked, grasping her wrist and lowering her hand back down. “Just ‘cause you don’t need it, does not mean I’m not going to find some way to get it in your pocket. With that said, _take it_.” 

She groaned as she stomped away, shoving the bill into her pocket. He chuckled to himself, putting his feet up on the table and sitting back. 

In his head, he was making a long list of drafts of what he would say to her mom. He had sentence starter after sentence starter swarming his brain along with body paragraphs and so on. He had no fucking clue what to say but he knew he would have to pull out the “deadly brain tumor, gonna die soon” card at some point. 

Betty didn’t want him to mention death but that’s because she doesn’t know that he _is_ dying, and she won’t know until he feels it has become a very pressing matter. 

On the other hand, Jughead really had no idea what the last week had consisted of. After their “date” (as Betty was calling it) at Pop’s, they had gone in two different directions and this is the first time he had seen her since. 

The only thing that was merely different about them was the glances. They were a bit more heated than before, but it wasn’t to the point that sexual tension was the only thing that hung in the air. 

They still hadn’t kissed and Jughead was far too nervous to even initiate something like that. He had kissed very few people, and all of them had just been one night stands. How the hell are you supposed to kiss someone that you want to take all around the world with you? 

His list of dilemmas was only growing and it was hurting his brain. He thought once he dropped out of school, he wouldn’t have to think this hard. 

He huffed as he stood up, feeling like Pop was gonna start thinking he was some creepy stalker dude if he didn’t leave soon. 

He fixed his beanie and Betty gave him a questioning glance from behind the counter. He moved over to where she was standing, sighing. “Where are you going?” she asked, disappointment dripping from her features. 

“I’m… I’m gonna go talk to your mom,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t want you there.” He passed her the money for his order, clenching his jaw.

She took it, asking, “What? Why?” She gave him an incredulous look and he sighed.

“I-I don’t know.” He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I just… I just don’t, okay?” She looked over the register at him, letting out a deep breath. “I feel like it’ll be harder on your mom if you’re there. But if you’re not, maybe she won’t get as upset or-or worried, I don’t know. I don’t want you sweet-talking me to your mom for 20 minutes either. This already feels scripted, that would just make it worse.”

She blinked at him for a minute, chewing her lip. She wanted to be there to console her mom, tell her that she would be okay and that she would be home before she even knew she was gone. But she couldn’t ditch work, not after putting in her two weeks a week ago (which was a dumb idea since their plan was far from full proof). 

“You have to be nice, Jug.” she instructed as if he was her child. “You can’t… you know how when I barely make you mad, you yell? Well, you can’t really do that with my mom.” 

“You really think I’m going to sit there and yell at your mom?” 

“You’re prone to acting like an asshole,” she commented through gritted teeth. “And I don’t want you going all hulk smash on her like you sometimes do with me.” 

“I do not go ‘hulk smash’ on you,” he huffed, leaning against the counter. “And I can’t control those outbursts.”

“Well, just for today, learn how to control them. I can handle them because I know you don’t… you don’t do it intentionally, but my mom doesn’t know you like that. She cannot mentally handle someone screaming and yelling at her, Jug. So… go easy. If she says no… we deal.” He nodded, stepping away from the counter. “Jug, your change-”

“I don’t want it,” he called from the door. “Keep it.” He heard the bell chime behind him as the door closed and he let out a deep breath, staring at his feet as he walked. If there was an easier way to do this, he really hoped someone would run up and tell him. 

He felt like he was asking for her hand in marriage (and he wasn’t because the first time he even mentioned getting married was completely fucking bizzare. What the hell was he on when he said that?) and what he was asking was probably ten times worse. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? Take Betty and let them go on a manhunt for her? He’d die a hoodlum or creep or abductor and he decided that his name was tainted enough for one lifetime. 

He looked up at the sky and squinted. There was no sun and it looked almost like it was going to snow. He would rather get poured on. 

Betty’s house really wasn’t that far from Pop’s and that fact alone made his blood boil for some unknown reason. He didn’t understand why the damn tumor turned him into his dad, but he didn’t like it in the slightest. Betty was right, he really was prone to acting like an asshole. 

The house was decorated for Thanksgiving with turkeys beside the door and a fall wreath hanging from it. They had a new welcome sign he had never seen before and never got the idea of decorating like this. It seemed like more of a hassle than it was worth. 

He stepped past the turkey, rapping his hand in the door. He stepped back onto the step afterwards, frowning over his shoulder when he saw a snowflake fall at his feet. New York weather was bullshit. 

The door opened and Alice looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks. This idea was getting more and more stupid by the minute. 

“Jughead,” she breathed out, stepping aside. “Betty’s at work right now but you’re welcome to come inside. It’s too cold to keep you waiting out there,” she laughed as he walked inside. 

“Thank you,” he started with the nicest grin he could muster. “But I’m… I’m not here for, uh, for Betty.” He let out a deep breath and Alice gave him the same look Betty had given him when he went to pay. She did resemble her mom. “Can we talk? You and I?” 

“About?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Jughead cleared his throat, fixing his hat. “Well…” he cleared his throat again, shifting his weight on his feet. “Um, you see…” He chuckled forcibly, again, clearing his throat. 

Alice straightened, asking, “Would you like something to drink?” 

“Please,” he croaked out quickly. 

Alice nodded, stepping away. “I’ll get you water. Why don’t you sit down on the couch, it’ll be easier to talk there.” 

He did as she suggested, rubbing his hands over his thighs as he sat down. He shuddered at all the pictures of Betty and Polly, feeling like they were staring into his soul. Their pictures felt haunted and he couldn’t place why.

“Here you are.” He flinched as she handed him the cup and she laughed, “Sorry for sneaking up on ya’.” He forced a chuckle, heartily drinking from the glass. He felt like he was dying and this was his interview into hell. “So, what do you want to talk about?” 

“Um…” He let out a deep breath, setting the glass on a coaster on the coffee table. “Well, you see, there’s something that I… that I gotta, uh, ask-ask you.” She raised her brows, nodding. “Okay, well, um…” He let out another deep breath, fixing the back of his hat. 

“Okay,” he started again, clearing his throat. “I want to take Betty… I want… fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, dropping his head into his hands. He collected himself, feeling unnerved by Alice’s lost gaze. “I want to take Betty with me while I basically travel the world.” 

She let out a laugh, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she giggled with a shake of her head. “That was completely involuntary.” She snorted, laughing even harder. He wanted to disappear. “You’re children, you think I’m going to let you take her around the world?” She laughed again and he felt his blood pressure rise. “Honey, I gotta give you kudos for even asking, but no.” 

Honey? He didn’t want to be called honey. “You don’t understand,” he sighed, keeping his voice as calm and smooth as he could. “This is important.” 

“If it’s so important now, it’ll be important in a few years from now.” She seemed to brush him off and it was only pissing him off. 

“In a few years from now, it won’t be able to happen.”

“Sure it will,” she offered. “Just save your money.”

He breathed deeply, shaking his head. “No, it really won’t,” he explained. 

“You’re just saying that because you want everything done now.” She scoffed as she stood. “You know, I don’t get you kids. You want everything ready when you want it. You take in the fact that there’s other people around-”

“I’m dying!” he interrupted in a shout. She stopped talking almost immediately, pausing from where she was tidying her mantle to gawk at him. He swallowed thickly, adjusting in his seat. “I’m-I’m dying,” he repeated softly. “I was given 12 months and I can’t… we won’t be able to go in a few years.” 

She lowered herself down onto the couch in disbelief and he rubbed his hands over his thighs. “I-I know it sounds… crazy, but I have a… I have a glioblastoma--it’s the deadliest brain tumor in the world and, um, there’s no cure. I’m forgoing treatments and all I want to do is be with Betty. I know her and I… we haven’t been anything in years, but she’s my best friend and I don’t want to do this alone, not when I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to say goodbye, you know?” 

She let out a deep breath, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “You have a year left?” 

“Give or take,” he mumbled. 

She let out a shaky breath, her hand over her heart as if she had just been struck in the chest. “Betty, does she know?” 

“No, ma’am. I don’t… I’m not ready to tell her.” 

“Don’t you think you should? You’re taking her all around the world so what? In the end you unexpectedly die?” 

He sighed, fixing his hat. “No ones certain when I’ll die, Ms. Cooper. I could live past 12 months, or I could die tomorrow. There’s nothing anyone can do about it, telling her won’t change that.” 

“But you’re going to take my baby—I’m sorry.” She covered her face as she cried and he wondered who she was crying for. Him or Betty? 

She breathed deeply after a moment, straightening. “She’s a good girl, you know.” He nodded, clenching his jaw. He didn’t know how to react when adults cried. “She’s my baby, the only one I have left.” 

“What about Polly?” he questioned. He knew it wasn’t his thing to ask, but he needed to know their mom had someone around. 

“Oh,” she laughed, shaking her head. “She’s living with her father for the time being. She’s gone, won’t be back until the spring.” He nodded, his heart sinking. He didn’t want Betty’s mother going insane all because he was the one who suddenly needed someone to grasp to. “I think Betty would love to go on that trip. When she was younger she used to have a little scrapbook that she would put all the different cities in—France, Rome—all of those places.” 

Her smile, it seemed pleasant but broken and Jughead let out a long sigh. “Look, if you don’t want me to take her, that’s fine. I can… I can make my time left here memorable.” 

“No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t do that to the two of you.” He furrowed his brows and she sighed. “I’ll get over missing her, it’ll get easier and it’s not like she’s never coming home. I’ll see her again, just like how I’ll see Polly again as well. If you had kids, you would understand.” 

“So she can go?” he asked, his anger and confusion subsided. 

“If it’s okay with her, I’ll make it okay with myself.” He let out a laugh of relief and she held her hand up. “I have conditions, or rules per say.” He nodded, ready to listen. “I want a call at least once a week and a letter, if you can muster.”

“Yes, ma’am. I can make sure that she does that.” 

Alice nodded, fixing her shirt. “I want pictures as well when you two return.” He nodded, though he wasn’t so sure about the ‘two’. “No legally getting married without me there.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” He furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “We don’t… no, we’re not doing that.” 

“You can change your mind,” she explained and he just gave a short nod. “And lastly, just be careful with her. She’s gonna wind up hurt and if there’s any way you can make that impact easier on her, please do. I don’t want her so broken, she doesn’t know how to even begin to fix herself. Does that sound doable?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He was tired of saying the two words but they were the only thing that seemed to want to come out. 

“Don’t make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “Thank you so much.” Alice sighed and he stood up from his seat. “Thank you, really. I-I don’t know what else to say.” 

She nodded, standing herself. “Do you know when you two are leaving?” He shook his head, following her to the door. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know.” 

“Of course,” he breathed, still astonished that she even allowed him to do this. “I’m gonna… thank you.” 

~

Jughead raced into Pop’s, scanning over the waitresses heads. He huffed when he couldn’t find a blonde ponytail anywhere, clenching his jaw. He moved behind the counter, Pop calling out, “You can’t do that, son!” 

“Sorry, Pop!” Jughead yelled back, pausing at the door to the back room. “It’s important!” 

“Jughead, you’re gonna kill me.” Pop droned off and Jughead chuckled, opening the door. 

Betty hung up her apron, furrowing her brows. “So this is why you were getting yelled at.” She shook her head, giggling. “You can’t ever just-” He cupped her cheeks, leaning down and closing the space between them. 

His lips met hers and he swore he saw stars behind his eyes as he kissed her hard, Betty clutching to him as he did so. He didn’t know where the swell of ‘I need your lips on mine, like, now’ came from, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

Whatever lipgloss or chapstick she had on made her taste like strawberries and vanilla and fuck, he wanted more. She whimpered into his mouth and he dipped his tongue into hers, groaning himself. 

Sure, he’s had sex. He’s had sex with lots of people (he thinks) and it’s always been good sex—not perfect, not necessarily great, but it was _good_ —but he had never wanted someone like how he wanted Betty at that moment. 

He’s never wanted to mark someone and take them wherever they’re at at that moment. He prided himself on not being an exhibitionist, but Betty was somehow different. 

He wanted people to know she was his, he wanted people to know that he—Jughead Jones, the freak, the loser, the psycho—had Betty fucking Cooper and that she had him, too. Although, at the same time, he wanted to keep her hidden. He wanted everyone and no one to know she was his at the same time. 

They pulled apart, his forehead pressed to hers as they each breathed heavily. He could feel her breath fanning his cheek with every exhale she let out and he sighed. 

“Well,” she breathed. “That’s new.” She giggled, letting go of his t-shirt. “I’m guessing that the conversation with my mom went good?” 

_Good_ , he thought. _She’s ignoring the kiss. Please keep ignoring the kiss_. 

He shrugged. “Maybe,” he teased lightly, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stepped back and away from her. 

She squealed, draping her arms over his shoulders. “Tell me!” she laughed, her eyes shining with excitement. The look made endorphins fill his body to the brim and _is this what it feels like to fall in love?_

“When do you wanna leave for New York?” he asked, and she froze, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“You’re serious?” she whispered and he nodded. “You’re not joking? She said yes?”

“Yes, Betty,” he chuckled. “She said yes.” 

She squealed, jumping into his arms and hugging him close. He laughed, looking over his shoulder when the door opened. Pop leaned against the doorframe and Jughead winced. 

“I don’t know what you two are celebrating,” he started and Betty picked her head up. “But I gotta cut it short because he has to get out of here.” 

“Oh, come on.” Jughead joked, Betty unwrapping her legs from around his waist and setting her feet firmly back on the ground. “Betty’s shift is done, let me leave with her. And plus, you love me. You can’t kick me out.” 

“Come on,” Pop sighed with a tilt of his head towards the door. They had done this dance one too many times. 

“I’ll meet you outside,” Betty whispered, kissing his cheek. She gave him a small smile, walking out the back door. 

“Today, Jughead.” 

“Oh, fine. God,” he scoffed as he left the room. “You know, for being the nicest man in town, you’re pretty mean.” 

“Save it,” Pop laughed and Jughead chuckled, walking outside and meeting Betty. 

She placed herself at his side, their arms brushing. “How does next week sound for New York City?” she asked with a grin and he smirked, nodding. 

_November 15th_

Betty grunted as she shoved her suitcase closed, huffing. She had two—one for clothes, one for toiletries and some extra clothes. Then she had her carry-on and purse and as she looked over it all, she realized she needed to learn how to part with things more efficiently. 

She set everything by the door, ready for when she and Jughead leave the next day. They were going to be in New York for a week then decide where to go from there. They hadn’t talked much about it in the past week, but had both equally decided that they would know when the time came. 

Her bed looked weird to her now. She wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t look like her bed; it almost looked like a strangers. She would miss home, she knew that for sure, but being with Jughead would make her feel grounded. 

There was a knock on her door before it was pushed open, her mom stepping inside. They hadn’t talked about this at all, Alice hadn’t even mentioned it to Betty after Jughead walked her home after her shift at work. They had a bubble of mutual silence and the air between them was polluted and they didn’t know how to clear it. 

“I see you’re all packed,” her mother sighed sadly, sitting down at the foot of her bed. Betty nodded, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “That’s good.” 

Betty swallowed thickly, watching her mother with guarded eyes. She looked and seemed lost, like she didn’t know what was going on or didn’t know how to make sense of it. Honestly, Betty didn’t know how to either, but she was happy to be strung along. 

“You guys leave tomorrow morning?” Alice asked, turning to face her daughter. 

Betty nodded again. “Yeah,” she whispered. “We have to catch the 10 o’clock train.” Alice nodded, tightening her robe around her. The silence in the room grew and Betty sat up straight. “Mom,” she tested softly. Her mother didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” Alice said, her voice breaking. “It’s just a lot, you know?” She sniffled, turning to face Betty. “You’re my baby and now I’m giving you up.” 

“But you’re not,” Betty began, grabbing her mother's hand. “It’s only a few months and we’ll talk every week. You’re not losing me, I swear.” 

Alice wiped at her face, giving Betty a weak smile. “I want to know everything that happens—good and bad. Don’t hide anything from me, I’m your mom.”

“I won’t,” Betty whispered, tears brimming her eyes. “I promise. I’ll tell you everything.” 

“Don’t cry,” Alice breathed. “This isn’t worth crying over. But listen.” Alice moved closer to Betty who sniffled, wiping her cheek when a tear slipped from her eye. “You don’t take this time you two share for granted, do you understand me? That boy, he seems to care about you, you need to do the same for him. You cherish this, Betty, okay?” 

Betty nodded, wiping her cheek again. “I won’t take it for granted, mom.” 

Alice cupped Betty’s cheek, sighing. “I won’t be here when you leave—I’m going to the office early—I just wanted to say I love you and don’t worry about me while you’re gone, I’ll be okay.” 

Betty sobbed as she pulled her mom into a hug, crying into her shoulder like she used to do as a child. She clutched to her, her face buried in her neck. “I love you too,” she cried, sniffling. 

They pulled apart after a few moments, Alice smoothing hair off of Betty’s face. She dropped a kiss to her forehead, standing up. “Get some rest, okay?” she said with a forced smile. 

Betty just watched her as she left the room, another tear escaping her eye as the door closed. 

_November 16th_

Jughead knocked on the Cooper’s front door, rocking on his heels as he waited. He had a cab waiting and partially expected him to drive off after a certain amount of time. That would be a horrible way to start their trip. 

The door opened and Betty gave him a bright smile, clapping her hands. “New York City!” she cheered. He may have been half asleep, but he still knew her smile was brighter than the sun. “Can you help?” she asked, pointing to her bags.

He took her two suitcases, hiding his surprised grunt while she took her carry-on and purse. “Did you bring your whole room?” he mocked and she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I had to, I’m sorry.” 

“Is the can driver nice?” she asked in a hushed voice as she helped him put her things in the trunk. 

“Eh,” he responded, closing it. “Kinda.”

“Kinda isn’t a yes,” she whispered in a sing-song voice. He chuckled and she smiled, cupping his chin and pulling his face to hers. She kissed him quickly, a devilish grin on her face as she slipped into the cab. 

The kiss caused Jughead to blush a deep red. He hadn’t expected it and he was shocked. He didn't know they did that yet. 

Yeah, they kissed (hard) once in Pop’s, but that was somehow different. But now they’re kissing? Like short little good morning kisses? 

As he got inside the cab himself, he realized he shouldn’t be confused about anything. They said they were dating (well, settling, but that’s a running joke they have to fight the awkwardness away) so he shouldn’t be surprised that they’re kissing now. 

_I’ve never kissed someone like that_ , he noticed in his head. He glanced over at Betty, his brows furrowed. 

She was staring out the window, an excited grin on her face. Her eyes were lit up and shining from her feelings and from the morning sun that decided to poke its head out for a few minutes. 

Jughead turned back to look out his own window, huffing. Did this mean she was technically his first kiss? 

His first kiss was a heavy make out session behind the school with one of the 9th grade boys when he was in 8th. He didn’t understand _why_ a high schooler was hanging around the middle school, but he was hot so he wasn’t going to complain—if he had, what type of unfortunate person would that have made him?

Everyone else’s first kisses were quick and weird. They were pecks on the lips, not full on make outs. And most people’s first kisses were with people of the opposite sex, not the same—right? 

“Who was your first kiss?” he blurted out to Betty and he huffed. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” he added with a chuckle. 

She looked over at him, giggling and shaking her head. “My first kiss was with…” she twisted her mouth and squinted her eyes as she thought. “Ooh, okay.” She placed her hand on the empty middle seat between them, leaning towards him. “My first kiss was with Jason.” 

“Jason?” he exclaimed, wincing. “Like, Polly’s Jason?” She nodded with a cringe and he scoffed. “Betty, how old were you?” 

“14. He was 15. And it was before him and my sister even _thought_ about getting together. It was just a-a kiss. It sucked, too.” She shrugged. “Anyway, him and my sister ended up hanging out after that and him and I forgot about the whole thing.” Jughead nodded with a wince and she rolled her eyes jokingly. 

“So,” she started, leaning towards him again. “Who was Jughead’s first kiss with?” 

“Some boy from the high school. I don’t know his name.” 

She gave him a questioning look, asking, “Boy?” 

He nodded, looking over at her. “Yeah, is that… bad?” 

“Well, you’re with me…” He nodded and she moved closer to him. “But you kissed a boy.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Don’t you like guys?” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, no.” He sighed, fixing his hat. “Listen. I like guys, but I don’t date them.” She looked confused and deep down he hated her innocence. “I’m sexually attracted to men and women, but I only date women.” 

She furrowed her brows, sitting back. “So, you’re bi?” 

“Yes,” he whispered. He never officially put a label on it. “In a way.” 

“But you only date girls?” she questioned, still confused. 

“Yes,” he repeated with a nod. 

She seemed to think about it for a moment before she nodded, giggling, “Okay.” She sat back in her seat and looked back out the window, her grin from earlier cracking her face again. 

He nodded, chuckling as he looked out his own window. 

~

“How long is this whole trip into the city going to take?” Betty asked, leaning over towards Jughead. 

He shrugged, clearing his throat. “About… 2 and a half hours.” 

“2 and a half hours?” she asked with a scoff. “There’s no way.” 

“Our second train ride is an hour long,” he explained and she whined, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s not that bad. It’ll be worth it, promise.” 

She gave him a knowing look and he smirked, winking. She groaned as she sat up, resting her head back against the seat of the train. 

~

“Come here,” Betty giggled quietly, Jughead sighing as he moved into her side. “It’s a fish pushing a stroller.” 

Jughead laughed, giving her an incredulous look. “What the hell?” 

She laughed, groaning. “Look.” She pointed out the window at the sky and he squinted as he looked at it. It was a blur of white and blue, he couldn’t see anything 2 inches in front of his face, but he still scoffed. 

“Huh,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s a fucking fish pushing a stroller.” She laughed, kissing his cheek. “Our stop is coming up soon. Let me take one of your bags.” 

“What? No,” she protested. “I got them.” 

“Betts,” he chuckled. “I have two bags, you have four. I can take one of yours.” She snarled, passing him one of her bags. “You’re not gonna be taken out by natural selection all because you let me take one of your bags.” She huffed, holding her nose high. “Bratty attitude today?” 

She glared at him, Jughead laughing as she shoved him. “I am not acting like a brat,” she huffed. 

“But you are and it’s adorable.” She rolled her eyes and looked away from him. He smirked as he watched a flush cover her neck up to her ears, laughing. 

“Stop,” she giggled, pushing him again. “You’re such a bully. You need to be nicer.” 

“I think I’m nice enough,” he chuckled. She shook her head and he raised a brow. “I’m not?”

“No, you are not,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You bully me.” 

“Just you?” he laughed.

She nodded, biting back her own chuckle. “Yes, just me.” They held eye contact for a moment before they both let out a bubbly laugh. Jughead took one of her bags as the train slowed to a stop. 

They walked off onto the platform, Betty letting out an excited squeak. She looked around herself before she looked over at Jughead, asking, “Where are we?” 

“Brooklyn,” he sighed and she nodded, grinning. “We can go into Manhattan tomorrow, okay?” 

She nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m excited!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Jughead fixed his hat under the disgusted gazes they got, already checking those people as ignorant in his book. “Come on, Betts.” He kept his voice low, pushing on her lower back lightly to get her to start walking. “Let’s go see the place where we’re staying.” 

“We already have somewhere?” she asked in astonishment. 

He chuckled, nodding. “Yes, we already have somewhere.” 

“Is it pretty?” She looked up at him with shining eyes and he shrugged. “You don’t know? Didn’t you look at the place when you booked the room?” 

“Yes, I did. But you never know,” he sighed. “It could look completely different in person than it does online.” 

“You need to be more confident with your decisions,” she began. “It would make you a happier person and being happy is the only way life doesn’t bite you in the ass.” He glanced over at her with an unamused look. “Jug,” she laughed, linking her arm through his. “Being confident in your choices makes you happy. I mean it.” 

“I am very confident in my decisions,” he explained. “I just don’t act like it. And even if you are happy, life still bites you in the ass. I mean it.” Her jaw slacked and she frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him walk up the stairs of an old brownstone. “Close your mouth, let's go.” 

She groaned, carrying her bag up the steps. “Bully,” she muttered under her breath. 

“Carry on, Cher Horowitz.” Jughead laughed.

Betty gasped, looking over her shoulder. “You’ve watched _Clueless_?” He turned her head by gently pushing her chin forward and she giggled. “You’ve watched _Clueless_.” He gave her a testing glance and she grinned, clapping. “You just get more and more interesting. Grown-up Jughead is fun.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. He opened the door and Betty gasped quietly as they walked inside, taking in everything. “Do you wanna wait in there while I check us in?” Jughead asked, pointing to the sitting area. 

Betty nodded enthusiastically, skipping over to one of the couches. He chuckled, shaking his head before he turned towards the front desk.

~

“This is your room,” the woman said breathlessly as she opened the door to the hotel room. She placed the card in Jughead’s hand while Betty stepped inside. “There’s towels in the bathroom and if you make an out-of-country call, the payment will be added to your bill. Breakfast is served at eight and the bar opens at six pm.” She gave them a smile, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. 

Betty moved over to the window, leaning against the window sill and looking down at the street below. “Jug,” she whispered, waving her hand over her shoulder to get him to come over to her. “Could you imagine living here? Wouldn’t that be amazing?” she giggled, biting her lip. 

He looked down, nodding. “That’d be pretty cool,” he muttered, stepping away from the window. “Don’t think it’d ever happen though.” 

She scoffed, straightening and turning to face him. “Why would you say that? Anyone can live in New York City, it’s the place people go to become new.” She stepped closer to him, the bed separating the two of them. “You could live here too one day, Jug.” 

He watched her for a moment before he nodded, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right,” he admitted. “You could, too.” 

“We both could,” she grinned and he nodded. She moved onto the bed, standing up on it. 

“Your mom would yell at you for doing that,” he pointed out, turning away from her and picking up their bags. 

“Is my mom here?” she asked with a raise of her brow. He looked over his shoulder at her and she nodded. “I didn’t think so, so I will continue to stand on the bed. Maybe I’ll jump on it, too.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, furrowing his brows as he smirked while asking, “You’re going to jump on the bed, really?” 

She looked up, shaking her head as she looked back at him. “If the ceiling wasn’t so low, I would.” He chuckled and she sat down on the bed. “What are we going to do for the rest of the day? I hope it’s not hang out here ‘cause that’s boring.” 

He sighed, sitting down in a chair by the window. “I gotta find some stuff for us to do, I guess.” She nodded and he adjusted himself in his seat. 

“Can we go on a walk?” she asked, sitting up. “I want to see all these brownstones, they’re really pretty.” 

“It’s a little cold, but yeah, I don’t see why not.” She grinned, getting off the bed. He pushed himself up out of his seat, meeting Betty by the door. 

They were quiet as they left the hotel, Jughead watching his feet as they walked where as Betty took in the different buildings that lined the streets. They walked side by side as if they were two people passing each other. 

No words were spoken between them until they were almost three blocks away from the hotel and Betty cleared her throat. 

She looked over at Jughead, giving him a smile. “You okay?” she asked. 

He nodded, still watching the ground. “I’m fine,” he answered. 

“Just fine?” She raised her brow and he stopped, giving her a pointed look. “What?” she breathed, watching him with furrowed brows. 

“Why does everyone want fucking context when someone says they’re fine? Fuck, is that not an okay enough answer?” 

“Jughead-”

He scoffed, wiping a hand over his face. “Just shut up,” he shouted, interrupting her. “Why the hell do I always have to feel something? Can’t I just feel fine without people jumping out of their goddamn skin?” 

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jughead, lets just go-”

“No!” he yelled and she stepped away from him, looking over her shoulder. People were watching them and she was beginning to get embarrassed. “Leave me the hell alone!” 

“Jug,” Betty stepped towards him, pulling on his arm. “Let’s just go-” 

“You don’t ever listen, do you?” he screamed louder than he had before and she stilled, squeezing her eyes closed. “Go away, I don’t want you around! You’re annoying! Don’t you fucking get that?” 

Betty’s eyes filled with tears as she looked up with him, whispering, “That was harsh.” 

He deflated, his eyes suddenly growing a presence behind them again. “Betty,” he sighed, reaching for her. 

She stepped away from him, swallowing thickly. “No,” she whispered. 

“Betty-” he reached for her again and she shook her head.

“Stop!” she yelled, people on the street stilled. “Leave _me_ alone,” she sobbed, her voice breaking as tears spilled from her eyes. “Leave me… alone.” She said it in a hushed, weak voice, turning away from him and walking off down the street. 

He felt all of the things he said to her come back and sting him, his heart shattering. He groaned loudly as he wiped his hands over his face, shouting, “Fuck!” 

~

Jughead pocketed his phone as he walked into his and Betty’s hotel, giving the desk worker a tight-lipped smile before he dragged himself up the stairs. He had walked around the block for two and a half hours, criticizing himself.

He was going to get a different hotel room, give Betty the night away from him and just meet her for lunch the next day, but he soon realized he didn’t have his credit card so his plan wouldn’t have worked. 

He wanted to beat himself bloody for everything he said. The words that were flying out of his mouth were uncontrollable but he wished they were. He couldn’t even tell her _why_ he said all of that because he didn’t even know why he said all of that. 

Betty wasn’t annoying—overbearing? Sometimes, but she wasn’t annoying, per se. Betty worried, that’s what she did, she just wanted him to be happy. He needed to teach himself to walk away when he started to feel his blood begin to boil. 

Jughead took in a deep breath as he stilled in front of their room. He felt nauseous all of a sudden and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the fear of having to see her, a symptom of his GBM, or both. Knowing him, it was probably the latter. 

He inhaled sharply as he unlocked the door, pushing it open carefully. He stilled when Betty’s eyes met his, not knowing if he should move or not. 

Cautiously, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. “I’m sorry…” he started in a whisper, his hands held out in front of him. “I was an asshole-”

She laughed, nodding. “Took you long enough to figure that out.” He swallowed thickly, chewing his lip. “You flipped your shit all because I-I asked if you were ‘just fine’ as a joke! A joke!” She laughed again, shaking her head. “You are… I cannot believe the bullshit I put up with. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t even trust you, let alone put up with you!”

“Betty,” he sighed.

“No!” she shouted, getting off the bed and stepping towards him. “You don’t get how pissed off I am right now! I got screamed at in the middle of the street by someone who’s supposed to be my boyfriend but now I’m actually starting to think you genuinely settled.” Her chin trembled and tears filled her eyes like they had earlier that evening. 

He stepped closer to her, feeling like he was stabbed in the heart when she took two steps away from him. “I didn’t settle,” he whispered. “I swear.”

“You don’t want me like you say you do, Jug.” Her voice was shuddering and his heart was breaking. He wanted to swallow into a dark abyss and never be let out. “If you did, you wouldn’t treat me like this. I’m terrified of you,” she muttered weakly and he felt the breath get knocked out of him. “I don’t know who you are half the time.” 

He sat down on the foot of the bed and she wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out, feeling lightheaded. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his head dropping into his hands as his ears started to ring. “I’m sorry.” He continued to whisper the words as if they were his mantra and Betty wiped at her face, sighing. 

“I’m sorry doesn’t work after you say shit like that, Jughead.” She turned away from him, trying to ignore his chant. She paced the room, rubbing at her temples. She could barely register him being quiet before she shouted, “Jughead, shut up!” 

When she turned, he collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing and jerking. Her eyes went wide and she froze. She wracked her brain as she tried to figure out what was going on. She’d never seen something like this besides on TV shoes and this always happened in a hospital with hot, and highly trained doctors around. Not terrified but also still-kinda-pissed-off girlfriends.

When she finally registered the situation in front of her, she gasped and hurried to his side. “Jughead,” she cried, trying to grab him but not knowing if she could touch him. He turned blue and she felt herself stop breathing. “Jughead!” she sobbed, shakily grabbing her phone off of the nightstand. 

As she dialed 911, he stopped abruptly and he sounded as if he was snoring almost. She breathed heavily as she watched him, the operator saying, “Hello? Hello?” into the phone. Jughead blinked around the room like he had never been there. He looked lost and confused. 

Betty felt a tear slide down her cheek, her breath coming out in heavy pants. She blinked at Jughead, the two of them staring at each other. _Does he know who I am?_ , she asked herself. _What if he doesn’t?_

“Hello?” the operator asked more stubbornly. 

Betty gasped, clearing her throat. “I’m-I’m sorry. I-I need… I-I need an am-ambulance.” 

“Okay, ma’am. Can you tell me your address?” Betty was almost in a trance as she watched Jughead lay on the floor, not moving and just breathing. He had stopped making noise but he still looked confused, though he looked like he had made sense of his confusion. “Ma’am?” 

“What?” Betty breathed, turning away from him and wiping her face. “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

“I need your address, ma’am.” the operator repeated. 

Betty shrugged, starting to cry. “A-A hotel,” she cried. She looked around the room in a frenzy, sniffling. “The-The Ar…” she whimpered, her voice wavering. “The Arlingt-ton.” 

“The Arlington?” 

“Mm-hm,” Betty whimpered again, bringing her knees up to her chest. 

The operator was quiet and Betty could hear keyboard keys clicking in the background. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We were fighting,” Betty started in a hushed whisper. “And he just started to-to chant I’m sorry and I-I ignored him. Then-Then he just… he just collapsed and…” She wiped her face, hearing the sirens of an ambulance. “He-He had a seizure, I think.” 

“Is this his first time ever having one?” 

“I don’t know,” Betty cried, watching Jughead as he stared again. “I don’t know.” she repeated, sniffling. 

_November 17th_

Betty and Jughead didn’t dare look at each other as they sat in the overcrowded ER, waiting for the doctor to come back. They had sent Jughead in for multiple brain scans, Betty staying back and trying to process what she had seen. 

The curtain was pulled open and they focused their attention on the doctor. He gave Jughead a look he had seen one too many times before. He all but gulped, adjusting in himself and looking over at Betty.

“Can you go?” he whispered, barely giving her a glance. 

She gave him an incredulous look, asking, “What?”

He looked over at her, gritting out, “Go, please.”

“Jughead, I watched you have a seizure-”

He interrupted with a grumbled, “Leave.” She watched him for a few moments before she stood with a huff, leaving the area angrily. Jughead cleared his throat, turning to face the doctor.

He studied him for a moment. He was older, his hair grey with a dusting of white. He wore glasses, but they weren’t too thick and Jughead was pretty sure they were just readers. His nametag read Miller and he stood with his hands crossed in front of him, a folder and papers in his hands. 

Jughead sighed, fixing the way he was sitting again. “I know what you’re going to tell me,” he started. “I have a massive glioblastoma that’s spreading through the front half of my brain on the right and left side. Yes, I’ve had symptoms—blurred vision, headaches, a huge change in personality and mood—now I’ve had a seizure which has to be connected so it’s spreading, isn’t it?” 

Dr. Miller looked dumbfounded as he watched Jughead explain everything almost word-for-word. He let out a sigh, adjusting his stance as he nodded. “It’s gotten significantly larger. When was the last time you got scans?”

“A few weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to have the scans?” Dr. Miller asked and Jughead let out a deep breath, pulling out his phone. He scrolled, passing it to him after a moment. His eyes went wide and he cleared his throat. “Okay,” he whispered, passing Jughead his phone. 

“Do I get less time to live, now?” Jughead asked, wanting to go to bed. “Don’t sugarcoat it either, I just want to know.” 

Miller sighed, sitting in the stool next to Jughead. “Do you want to bring that woman back in here?” 

“No,” Jughead said. “I’d prefer if she didn't know yet.”

“Well,” Dr. Miller started, fixing his jacket. “I think it may be time that we concern her. This is growing rapidly-”

“Oh, that’s sad.” Jughead nodded, sighing. “Tell me. I _had_ 12 months, what’s my time limit now?”

Miller looked away from Jughead, not understanding how someone so young could feel so okay with this kind of diagnosis. “I’d say you probably have… 6 to 8 months.”

“6 to 8?” Jughead copied and Dr. Miller nodded. “Cool. Can I go?” 

Dr. Miller gave him a concerned look, echoing, “Cool?” 

Jughead nodded, repeating, “Cool. Can I go?” 

“Listen.” Jughead rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re 18, you’re allowed to be scared. You have 6 to 8 months left to live, and all you have to say is cool?” 

“Sorry,” Jughead huffed, sighing a second later. “Super cool. _Can I go?_ ” Miller sucked his teeth, nodding. “Stop dwelling over shit you can’t change. Everyone’s always more upset about this damn diagnosis than I am, Jesus.” 

He pulled his coat on as he left out of the ER doors, Betty standing up off the bench by them. “What’d they say?” she asked breathlessly. He looked over at her, his head emptying and only replaying everything wrong he had ever done to her. He froze completely and she waved a hand in front of his face. “Jughead,” she snapped and he sighed. 

“I’m fine.” He could tell she wanted to press but wouldn’t. “It was nothing, I’m-I’m fine. Um, they just… he-he wants me to, uh, get those anti-seizure meds.”

She watched him for a moment, nodding. “I don’t trust you, but okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as they started to walk and she shrugged. 

“It’s whatever,” she sighed, tucking hair behind her ear. “I’m too much, I get it. I’ll back off, I’ll let you use me when you want me.” 

“Betty, no.” She continued to walk ahead of him and he groaned, wiping his hand over his face. He fixed his hat, inhaling deeply and jogging through people to catch up with her. “Betts, please don’t stop, okay?” 

“No, stopping is a _personal_ choice.” She refused to look at him and he watched her with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to get screamed at every time I ask a simple fucking question.” 

“Betty, you gotta keep doing it.” She rolled her eyes and he stepped in front of her. She crossed her arms over her chest and he sighed. “Please. If-If you don’t, I’m going to stay this entitled fucking prick until I die—I don’t want to die an asshole!” She blinked at him, unfazed. “You can yell back—hell, I want you to yell back!” He stepped towards her, cupping her cheeks as he whispered, “Yell at me.”

“Why would I yell at you now? It’s a little late, don’t you think?” She pushed away from him, zipping her jacket tighter as it got colder. “I’m not feeding into this fantasy.” 

“It’s not a fantasy!” he shouted and she sighed. “I’m sorry, I need to… need to learn to control my voice. But this isn’t a fantasy.” 

“It is,” she said, wagging a finger in his face before she pushed it back into her pocket. “And it’s weird. Who wants to be yelled at?” 

“Me. I want to be yelled at.” She gave him a weird look and he breathed deeply. “Do you know _why_ I want to be yelled at?” he asked, looking nearly crazed. 

“Because you have a creepy fantasy. I get it—a traumatic past leads to some weird-ass kinks.” 

He groaned, trying to consider that she was maybe enjoying his annoyance. “No,” he whined. “Nobody fucking yells at me—nobody! I am letting you scream at me, tell me everything I’ve ever done wrong, yell about anything just aim all of your words at me.” 

“Why the hell do you want to be demeaned?” she questioned, scoffing. “Jughead, you’re acting weird and truthfully, it’s unnerving.” She opened the door to the hotel and he muttered under his breath as he followed her inside. 

“Tell me everything I’ve ever done to you that’s made you even merely feel like a piece of shit. I want to know what I’ve done, I want to get better.” 

“And you need me to yell at you so you’ll get better?” She gave him a concerned look, shaking her head. “Pretty sure you go to a therapist for shit like that.” 

“Fuck, Betty! Just do it, please.” he mumbled and she sighed, unlocking their hotel room. 

“Well,” she started. “First example just happened. When you don’t get your way, it’s _always_ a fuck and my name—is everything always my fault? The San Andreas fault could give at this moment and you would still shout ‘fuck, Betty’ and think you were God’s gift-”

“I don’t believe in God,” he interrupted and she waved her hand.

“That. That right there. Interrupting _everything_ I say. I respect your opinion and I won’t use God as a reference anymore but Jesus Christ, can’t I finish a damn thought for once? Not to mention, your attitudes are exhausting!” she laughed, shaking her head. “You are bursting at the seams with excitement one second, then the next you’re trying to tear my head off!”

She groaned, leaning against the bed. “Don’t even get me started on how you just _love_ to not say _shit_ about how you’re feeling. I’m sorry Jughead, but I want to _know_ if you’re not in the mood to talk about your feelings and that bullshit, okay? You may not care about it, but I do—I care about how you feel. So yes, you may think ‘I’m fine’ is a perfectly acceptable answer but I don’t think it is! I want you to be fine, yes, but I want you to be happy! That is all I want—fuck me! I care about _you_!” 

He sat down on his side of the bed slowly and she started to pace. “You’re so mean and it’s so unprovoked. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last, honestly. I’m surprised I didn’t leave tonight—I’m grateful I didn’t leave tonight but still! You’re such a rude, snappy, disgusting person for no reason. I get you’ve had shitty things happen to you but you’re not the only one with feelings! I get hurt too! I cry too! I bitch too! You don’t understand that!” 

He started to chew the inside of his cheek, watching his hands. “I’m not calling you a narcissist,” she sighed, opening her bag and pulling out a hair tie. “You’re not even in the slightest. But… you don’t care about everyone else’s feelings when you need to.” She breathed deeply, sitting down next to him. “Some of the things you say, they _hurt_. It stings to hear things like that come from someone… who’s supposed to care about you. You don’t think before you speak and that really screws you over. You’re a good guy, I know you are, but your head isn’t empty for a reason, dumbass!” 

She huffed as she stood up and he sighed. “Use my brain,” he mumbled, looking up at her. “That’s what you’re telling me to do?”

“It would be nice if you would test it out once in a while,” she teased, grabbing her toiletry bag and walking into the bathroom. 

Jughead fell back into the bed, squeezing his eyes closed at the harsh light that came from the ceiling light. He rested his arm over his eyes, trying to absorb everything Betty had told him. All he had collected currently was that he was a severe ass. 

~

Betty looked up from the book she was struggling to focus on, taking a questioning glance over towards Jughead. He was silent and had been since she had gotten out of the shower. She couldn’t tell why, but it was weird. He was never really a huge talker, he wasn’t bursting with words, although his silence was still something she didn’t want to be in the presence of. 

She slowly set the book down on her nightstand, fixing the blanket as she sat up straighter in the bed. She watched him closely for a few moments before whispering, “Jug.” He turned his head after a few beats, raising a brow. “Don’t… yell,” she sighed and he looked away from her. “But are you okay?” 

He nodded, folding his hands on his stomach. “I’m just thinking.” 

“About what?” she asked, resting her head on her fist. 

Jughead shrugged, mumbling, “Just some things.” 

“Well, what things?” She was being tentative and careful with her questions, not wanting him to get upset. 

“What’s it called?” he asked, more so to himself. “Self-reflecting?” He shrugged, giving her a thin smile. “Whatever it’s called, I’m doing that.”

She turned off her bedside light, laying down on the bed next to Jughead. She tucked her hands under her head, chewing her lip. “What are you reflecting on?” she questioned softly. 

He shrugged and she ran her eyes over his face. He looked somber. He breathed deeply after a few seconds, muttering, “Everything.”

“Everything?” she copied and he nodded. 

“Everything,” he repeated in a hushed voice. “I really am sorry, Betty.” He moved his head to look at her and her eyes grew a soft look. “I was terrible to you and… I’m sorry. I’m-I’m a horrible person and I really didn’t mean anything I said. If you don’t believe that, I understand because the shit I said was just…” He huffed, wiping a hand over his face. 

He swallowed thickly, rolling onto his side. “I’m gonna get better, I swear. I’m going to try, Betts, you need to work with me. This is what I meant when we first started talking again, I don’t know what's going on with me but I want you here, I do. And you’re not annoying, you care and I’m not used to people caring, you know? I… I’m sorry. It’s really a shitty thing to say because I’m sure it barely holds any meaning, but I _am_ sorry. I am truely, utterly sorry.” 

She nodded, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I know,” she whispered, cupping his cheek. “You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

“I’m sorry—fuck, sorry. Shit, god dammit,” he scoffed, Betty letting out a hushed giggle. 

“You can say you’re sorry, Jug.” she laughed, running her hand through his hair. “I would like it if you stopped apologizing for something I’m trying to forget. I understand that you’re trying to show your remorse, but please stop. You can say you’re sorry until you’re in your grave, but that doesn’t make what you said okay. Just like how I can’t keep saying sorry for the shit I did in middle school. I can try but it doesn’t mean that deep down you’re still hurt by it.” 

“Yes,” he whispered, trying to fight off sleep. Her voice and the way she was running her fingers through his hair was soothing enough to make him pass out. “But I don’t… I don’t hate you for what you did anymore.” 

“I know,” she responded, moving slightly closer to him. “But it still hurt, didn’t it?” He nodded and she sighed. “Apologizing only does so much. You have to show development and you have to show how you’re going to change. You can’t be all talk, I want to see progress, Jughead.” 

“Progress?” he echoed in a questioning tone, his eyes growing heavy. 

“Yes, Jug—progress.” She said it with finality and he nodded slowly.

“What kind of… what kind of progress?” he asked. He wanted to listen to her talk still, her voice was weirdly calming.

She shrugged, twisting a strand of his hair around her finger. “I don’t know, Jug. Just…” She shrugged again, sighing. “You need a cap or something, that’s what you really gotta work on.”

He gave her a confused look, gently pushing her hand away. It was distracting. “What does that mean?” She groaned and he chuckled. “It’s a serious question,” he laughed and she rolled her eyes jokingly. 

She breathed deeply, tucking both of her hands under her head. “When you get mad, you don’t have, like, a limit you have to get to before you walk away or before you shut up—you need that. Like, when you can _tell_ you’re about to say something you won’t be able to control, you gotta walk away Jug. That’s not defeat, that’s not a bad thing, it’s a good thing. If you don’t do that _at least_ , I’m going home. I can’t… I can’t just have you bursting at me for no reason.” 

“I need a cap?” he asked, his face serious. Betty nodded and he chewed his cheek. “I need a cap,” he whispered. “How do I get a cap?” 

She giggled, biting her lip. “Well, you gotta learn to walk away first.” 

“Isn’t it bad to walk away from a fight? Don’t people get mad when people do that?” 

“If they do,” she started, scrunching up her face. “They’re not understanding people. You gotta… you have to step away from things sometimes. You gotta step away from relationships, from work, from school, from whatever. It’s the only way to really… to really be okay.” 

He watched her for a moment, furrowing his brows as he asked, “What are you planning on doing after high school?” She gave him a weird look and he huffed. “I’m telling you this in advance, therapy or motivational speaker is your way to go because holy fuck.” She laughed out loud, covering her face with her hands as she started to blush. “Did you ever consider either of those?” 

She moved her hands, sighing as she gave him a playful look. “I have not,” she giggled and he smirked. “But now out of courtesy to you, I think I have to.” He chuckled, nodding. “You should be a professional insult artist,” she added jokingly and he let out a belly laugh. 

“I deserved that,” he scoffed after a minute. “And I’ll see if there’s any open spots anywhere near us.” She grinned, the two of them watching each other.

Silence seemed to be the thing that tended to make something spark between them and Jughead was seriously starting to believe brevity was his thing. His eyes were no longer fighting to stay open, they were now fighting to not stare at her lips. He knew they were technically dating, but he wasn’t one to initiate something like that, not yet.

She chewed her lip, swallowing thickly before she mumbled, “We should go to sleep, we had a super long day.” 

“Yeah,” he croaked gruffly, rolling so he was facing away from her. “We should.”

He heard the bed shift as he assumed she rolled too, swallowing thickly as she whispered, “Goodnight, Jug.” 

“Goodnight, Betts,” he responded, letting her tug the blanket and get comfortable before he did himself. 

~

Betty was woken up in the middle of the night to Jughead mumbling something, thrashing gently in the bed. He wasn’t moving much, but his legs were kicking and he was digging his head into his pillow. He had his hands clenched around the bed sheets, tugging on them. 

She chewed her lip, sitting up. She wasn’t sure what you’re supposed to do in a situation like this. He could hurt her, she knows people who sleep walk do that at times and don’t even know about it. 

_He may wake up on his own_ , she told herself, still watching him closely. He was still jerking and whispering, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Jug,” she breathed, laying down when he didn’t answer. “Jug, it’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around him after a moment and tucked her face into his neck as he fought against her. “Jug, it’s me,” she said softly, stroking her hand through his hair. “It’s me, it’s okay.” 

He slowly started to calm down, his mumbling stopping and his heavy breathing slowly going back to normal, steady breaths. He settled into her hold, his hands unclenching from the sheets. 

“It’s okay,” Betty whispered one last time, still running her hand soothingly through his hair. “Go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo there are officially 10 chapters to this and if I’m being honest, it wasn’t easy to write. I started many “side fics” while trying to get out the last chapter but I _finally_ got it. Thank you do much to everyone who has read this fic so far and I really hope y'all are enjoying it. Your guys' comments are greatly appreciated and I enjoy hearing about what y'all think about this. Have a good day/night/evening/morning!  
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	5. New York City, New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 17th_

Betty groaned as light beamed in through the windows. The hotel needed to invest in putting curtains in their room. 

Jughead was sleeping soundly beside her and she shoved a pillow over his head in an attempt to quiet his snoring. She huffed when it did nothing, pushing her own pillow over her own head. She had never realized he snored before but it was a horrid noise when she just wanted silence. 

She rolled over to face him, narrowing her eyes as if that would silence him. She continued to stare, not knowing how much time she was doing so until he blinked awake. 

He furrowed his brows at her, turning the other way. “You wake up pissed at me?” he grumbled, taking the pillow she had pushed over his head and laying down on it. “That’s a toxic trait, you know.” 

“You snore,” she grunted and he shrugged. “You’ve never snored before.”

“Never had a seizure before either,” he mumbled. “Guess we’re in for some surprises.” She groaned, hitting him with a pillow. He sat up, glaring as he shouted, “Hey!” 

He pulled a pillow out from underneath him, hitting her with it. She squealed, hitting him back. They both started to laugh as it turned into a full-on pillow fight, the two of them being much too loud for 7 am on a Saturday. 

Jughead had moved to block her hit from the pillow when he had lost his balance, gripping her arm as some chance to stay up right. But it had only caused them both to go tumbling off of the bed, Jughead taking the grunt of the fall as his back hit the hardwood, Betty half on top of him and half beside him. 

He coughed and groaned, his hands going to his hips. “I’m too old for this,” he exaggerated in a breath and she laughed. “I’m serious!” he exclaimed, starting to laugh himself but only giving up with a groan. “We just woke up this whole place because we decided to act like children.” 

She started to laugh again, clutching her sides. “It’s not that funny,” she snorted, covering her face. “But I can’t stop laughing.” Jughead couldn’t contain his grin as she continued to giggle and laugh, tears falling from her eyes. “I can’t breathe!” she yelled, panting as she tried to stop. “Make me stop laughing!” 

“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked, his brows furrowed as he continued to watch her. 

“I don’t know,” she said between laughs and gasping breaths. “Just make me stop!” He watched her with a wince, cupping her chin to make her be still before he kissed her quickly. She let out a breath, her breathing labored as she wheezed. “Much better,” she sighed, her cheeks turning red. 

Her breathing was heavy and she felt too nervous to move. It was a kiss, they’re dating, it’s normal. All (if not, most) couples kiss, why did theirs make her so anxious? It was dumb, really. She’s 17 and can’t even handle a kiss, how can she expect to handle a whole trip around the world? 

She looked over at him when she felt his eyes on her, Jughead looking away quickly. She narrowed her eyes, wanting to tease him about it, but holding back. It would only come back to bite her in the ass and she couldn’t make fun of Jughead for something she has done as well. 

“We should get ready for the day,” she started. “I want to do something today, I just don’t know what.” 

“It’s pretty cold,” he mumbled, looking back at her. “We should probably find something to do that’s inside.” 

“Ooh,” she exclaimed, sitting up quickly. “We _have_ to go to the MET. It’s, like, illegal not to.” 

“The MET? Who are we, The Kardashians?” She huffed, shoving his shoulder. “Isn’t that some fashion show place thing?” 

“Oh my god,” she groaned, sitting up and giving him a serious look. “How do you not know about the Metropolitan museum of art?”

“It’s a museum?” he asked, frowning. “I don’t do museums, I don’t do history.” 

She sighed, moving and sitting against the bed. “It’s not history, it’s art. It’s in the name,” she added with a laugh and he rolled his eyes jokingly. “But we gotta go. I’ve wanted to go to the MET for years, and I’ve even seen some of the things off of their website. It’s just not the same, it’d be so much better to see it in person.”

“How long will this take?” 

“As long as I want it to.” She gave him a grin, pushing herself up off the floor and finding clothes from her bag. “I’m so excited!” Jughead laughed at the enthusiastic look on her face, brushing hands through his hair with a groan. 

~

Betty squealed, clapping her hands. “Wasn’t it inspiring? Ugh, it makes me want to start doing art—and I can’t even draw!” Jughead dodged her hand as she threw it up in the air, picking up her gloves when she dropped them. 

“Betts, you’re going to knock someone out and they’re not going to be as okay with it as I will be,” he chuckled, stopping her and pushing her gloves onto her hands. “You gotta chill a little.” 

“I don’t want to chill, being chill is boring. And they need to learn to get out of my way!” Jughead raised his brows and she sighed. “I need to chill just a little bit. I really, really like it here, you know? I’m-I’m excited, and I know I’m always excited—my mom says I act a lot like a labrador puppy—but new experiences are just so…” She sighed, wringing her hands together. “I’ll never experience this for the first time ever again so I’m just trying to make the most of it.” 

He watched her with a grin, his heart growing six sizes in his chest. He wanted her passion, he wanted happiness. He couldn’t enjoy this the way she was, so living within her bubble and getting to experience her giddiness was enough for him. 

“Do you think you could get Broadway tickets still?” She frowned, looking up at him as they walked. “Can you even buy tickets this early before a show?” 

“First off, we are not on the same page here.” She huffed and he tucked his hands in his pockets. “And second, I have no idea. I mean, you could buy people's tickets—if people are even selling any.” She whined, pouting. “What show do you want to go to?” 

“ _The Phantom of the Opera_.” she answered with a large smile. “I mean, it’s a super basic answer but it’s the only Broadway show I know of besides _Hamilton_ and I don’t know if _Hamilton_ is still on Broadway.” She sighed, waving her hand. “Anyway, don’t go bending over backwards to find tickets. If we can’t go, that’s fine with me, Jug.” 

“I’m still going to look,” he said, cocking his head to the side. 

“I know,” she giggled, linking her arm through his. “Just don’t go nuts doing so.” 

He shrugged, mumbling, “We’ll just have to wait and see.” She rolled her eyes and he smirked. “What else is on your checklist?” 

“Hm,” she hummed, tapping her chin. “I’m not sure—not off the top of my head at least. Do you have anything you want to see while we’re here?” 

He let out a deep breath, shrugging as he fixed his hat. “Didn't you say you wanted to ride the ferry?” 

“Oh my gosh!” she shouted, clapping excitedly and bouncing up and down. “Yes! Yes! Oh, let’s do that! Can we please do that? Please, please, please? Jug, we gotta! We gotta!” She grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. “Jughead, we have to!” 

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, holding her waist to keep her feet on the ground. “It’s going to be cold, you know.” 

“Screw the cold, we’re gonna get on the ferry!” She squealed, hugging him quickly before skipping off in front of him. “Yay!” she squealed after a few minutes, turning and finding his hand. “Come on!” she giggled, Jughead letting her pull him along. 

~

Betty stretched her neck out against the cold wind that blew, her eyes falling closed as she let the air chill her and seep in through her layers. She was freezing and was on the verge of having her teeth begin to chatter, but she couldn’t seem to care. She was in New York City, on a ferry, about to see the statue of liberty—that could surpass any feeling of chills ever. 

She shouted when she was tugged back from the edge, groaning as she swatted Jughead’s hand away from the back of her coat. “I was perfectly safe!” she yelled, fixing her jacket with a frown. 

“You were most certainly not,” he contradicted, leaning against the side of the ferry. “And your lips are turning blue.” 

She reached up and touched her mouth, huffing as she sat on the cold bench. “I don’t want to go inside,” she whined, crossing her arms over her chest. ”I like it here.”

“Betts,” he sighed, sitting down next to her. “It’s freezing and you’re going to see the same amount of shit from a window inside. It’s too cold to be out here, you know that.” 

“It wouldn’t be the same,” she mumbled and he groaned, wiping a hand over his face. “I want to stay out here.” 

He huffed, standing up. “Fine,” he said with a shrug, “stay out here and freeze—I don’t care.” 

“Okay,” she scoffed, standing up. “You’re being dramatic. It’s cold, yes, but you don’t have to get all bitchy because I don’t want to go inside with a bunch of people I don’t know.” 

“Betty, it’s almost 30 degrees outside when you’re not on the water. Just go inside!” he shouted, though it wasn’t as loud as usual. 

“No!” she yelled back, stomping her foot and crossing her arms. “I want to be outside!” He turned away from her, wiping a hand over his face before he started to walk away. Betty scoffed, asking, “Where are you going?” 

“I’m walking away,” he stated, throwing his arms up and not looking back at her. “Let me walk away.” He disappeared inside the ferry and she huffed, sitting back down on the bench. 

She didn’t stay long though before she was up, following Jughead’s path inside. She looked over the heads of people, chewing her lip when she couldn’t find Jughead. He had left before her and he could have gotten further, but there were three different floors, he could be anywhere by now.

She sat down on one of the benches with a humph, leaning against the side of the ferry as she stared out the window. It was the exact same as being outside, just warmer. 

The ride suddenly seemed much longer than it had before and she now saw why Jughead got bored so easily. Things moved slow, too slow, and he was fast paced, he wanted everything to happen now. She liked taking her time, but she was much too impatient lately. 

She moved with the crowd as they all piled off of the ferry, keeping her hands tucked in her pockets and taking in all the faces she saw, hoping that maybe one of them would be Jughead—though she believed that would be very unlikely. 

~

Jughead flinched when he heard a squeal, straightening when he turned his head. “Ha!” Betty laughed, sitting down next to him. “I found you.” He sighed, resting his cheek back on his fist. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, her eyes going from excited to remorseful in a blink. 

“No,” he mumbled, straightening. She nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip. “We gotta talk.” 

She furrowed her brows, asking, “About what?”

He shrugged. “Us, I guess.” She looked over at him and he averted his eyes. “Are we actually dating or are we forcing the boyfriend-girlfriend labels onto each other?” He glanced over at her, the question in his eyes. 

She let out a deep breath, looking down at her lap. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think we are.” He looked down at his hands, Betty muttering, “What does that mean?” 

“We’re not dating,” he chuckled and she bit her lip. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, really, but if we keep forcing ourselves into this box, this-this bubble where it’s just us dating, then we’re never gonna be… normal. I mean, you have to realize how awkward it is between us half the time, it wasn’t like that when we weren’t shoving these labels down each other's throats.” 

She furrowed her brows, looking up at him with a confused look. “I don’t get it.” 

He let out a breath, scoffing before he took in a deep breath. “We’re just… friends, I guess. Not dating, not boyfriend-girlfriend, we're just… friends.” 

“Okay,” she whispered, her brows still furrowed. “But we both… like each other more than… friends do—unless you don’t.” 

“No, no, no.” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re confused, I get it.” He sighed, turning towards her. “I like you, Betty—I have and I still do—but we're forcing each other into this and if, if we continue to do that, it’s just going to get bad between us.”

She watched her lap for a minute, chewing her cheek. “So you still like me?” she asked and Jughead nodded. “But the dating, that’s making us awkward?” 

He laughed, shrugging. “Yeah, give or take.” She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m not saying that we’ll never date again or we won’t come back to dating, but it’s just easier to be friends.” 

“Or…” she started, sitting up and holding his gaze. “Maybe we just don’t put a label on what we are. You understand stuff like that, right? You don’t have to label your relationship with another person, do you?” 

“Well, no-” 

“Then why do we have to label ours?” He watched her with furrowed brows and she adjusted in her seat. “Think about it, Jug. We obviously feel some way about each other—and it’s not all just friendly—but the idea of giving it a name makes it unpleasant and annoying. We aren’t just friends but we don’t say we’re dating, so why do we have to act one way? It’s more fun when it’s a guessing game anyway.”

He laughed, nodding. “I guess it is.” She grinned, giggling tinily. “So, we’re just people…” he started and she nodded, holding her nose high. “Who are close.” 

“Mm-hm,” she hummed, biting her lip. “Totally.” He chuckled, kissing the crown of her head when she rested it on his shoulder. 

~

Betty walked into their hotel room, huffing at Jughead passed out on the bed. She set the pizza he had to have on a chair, taking off her coat and boots. She set her wallet down on the mantle of the fireplace along with her phone, taking off her hat and gloves and pushing them into her coat pockets. 

She cleared her throat as she stepped over to the bed, straddling Jughead’s back and leaning down towards his ear. She blew on lightly and he groaned, waving her away. “Get up,” she droned, rolling off of him. “We have to go pick up your medication later.” 

“How do you know I got medication?” he asked groggily, rubbing at his eyes as he sat up. 

“You had a seizure,” she huffed, opening the pizza box. “I think they would be pretty crazy if they hadn’t given you something.” He nodded, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment. “You know, you should talk to them about your headaches, they’re not good.” She sighed, bringing the box over to the bed and setting it between the two of them. “I’m sure they can put you on something that would help.” 

He shrugged, picking up a slice. “I mentioned them,” he grumbled, adjusting the slice in his hand. “I think they gave me something.” 

“Oh, good!” she exclaimed, smiling. “Maybe they won’t bother you as much.” He shrugged, eating the slice. “You have to take them though, Jug. They won’t do you any good just sitting in a bottle.” 

“I know,” he groaned, wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’ll take ‘em, I swear.” 

“Mm,” she hummed, shaking her head. “I’m not sure how much I trust that. You’re not one to stick to something.” 

“It’s pills,” he stated. “How hard can they be to take every morning?” She shrugged, setting her pizza down and huffing. 

“You gotta make sure you have enough while we travel,” she started, wiping her mouth. “Prescriptions can be hard to get in other places.” 

“Why?” he asked, finding that statement to be stupid. “You just give them the bottle and they refill it.” 

“No,” she said in a sing-song. “That’s not how it works in other places. You can’t even hand them a written prescription, either.” 

He frowned, pulling the crust apart. “So what do I have to do?”

“I’ve heard you have to get checked out by local doctors and stuff so they can confirm that that’s the medication you need and all that stuff. I don't know how true it is, but how hard can that be to do?” He shrugged, getting another slice of pizza. “Plus, you get, like, 30 pills which lasts a month so it’s not like you’ll be doing it often.” 

He nodded, wiping his hands. “We’re gonna find out, I guess.” She agreed with a nod, the two of them falling silent as they ate. 

~

Jughead was the first to finish, falling back on the bed with a groan. He hadn’t eaten that much in what felt like weeks, and he was stuffed to the brim. He was taking advantage of whatever appetite his body decided it could muster and wasn’t going to let it go to waste. 

Betty was still picking at a piece of pizza that she had started but judging by the look on her face, she didn’t seem too interested in finishing it. She dropped it onto the empty pizza box with a frown, swallowing thickly as she laid down next to Jughead.

“I feel huge,” she complained. “I don’t think I’m going to eat again for months.” 

He chuckled, sighing. “I know how you feel. I don’t even want to walk to the pharmacy.” 

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I forgot about that,” she sighed. “I was too busy eating.” He scoffed and she giggled. “Shut up,” she snickered, shoving his shoulder weakly. “You were too busy eating, too.” He huffed, crossing his hands on his stomach. “Maybe a walk would help us feel less huge.” 

“Or it could make us feel like discolored Violet from _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_.” She scoffed, sitting up. “I don’t want to walk, Betty.” 

“Come on,” she said, her voice light and teasing. “It’ll be fun.” 

“It will not be fun,” he groaned, wiping a hand over his face. 

She grabbed his hand, pulling on his arm. “Come on, Jug. We have to go now, you need this stuff.” 

“You know, back in the… way-back-when times that all old people talk about, they just dealt with their bullshit.” She rolled her eyes and he shrugged, standing up. “Personally,” he said, placing a hand on his hip for emphasis on his exaggeration. “I’m just going to deal with my bullshit.” 

“Dealing with your bullshit…” she mumbled, stepping over to him and cupping his cheeks. “Will wind you up in the hospital and we don’t want that. So,” she said with a bright smile. “We’re gonna walk.” 

He snarled, huffing. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

~

Jughead gave the pharmacist a tight-lipped smile, taking the bag of medication he handed him. Betty waved to the pharmacist as they left, watching her feet as they walked. She gasped abruptly, causing them both to stop.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, giving him a wide eyed look. “I haven’t called my mom. I promised I’d call!” she exclaimed, whining. “Oh, she’s going to kill me! Why didn’t I call?” 

“Hey,” Jughead coaxed, giving her a light push on the small of her back to get her to start walking again. “It happens. Just explain to her that you fell asleep, I’m sure she’ll understand. And it’s not like there was much to talk about yesterday, all we did was argue and, well, you know.” 

“Yes, but still!” She started to flail her arms as she talked and he sighed. “I promise— _promised_ —I’d call every night and that I would tell her everything we did, and I’ve already broken that promise! What kind of daughter does that make me? She’s going to be so upset!” 

“I’m telling you,” he started. “She’s going to understand. A lot of shit happened yesterday, there’s no way you were going to remember a little phone call anyway.” 

“But you don’t get it!” she shouted and he breathed deeply, fixing the back of his hat. “Jug, I promised and then I broke the promise without even attempting to keep the promise. I’m a terrible daughter,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Stop,” he huffed, following her down into the Subway. “You’re fretting over something so little that can easily be excused. I’m sure your mom’s going to understand.” 

“What if she doesn’t?” she asked, looking as if she was about to cry. 

He sighed, stepping behind her and squeezing her shoulders. “She’s going to understand,” he whispered. “I promise. And if she doesn’t, she’ll get over it. A late call is better than no call, right?” She nodded slowly and he nodded once himself, kissing the crown of her head. She let out a deep breath, leaning back against him. 

It was odd how differently they were acting just by erasing one thing—the idea that they were dating. It changed whatever weird air they had between them and made it normal again. They were acting more like a couple now rather than when they stated they were one (even if that had only been for almost 2 weeks).

The Subway came to a screeching halt, the doors opening. People piled in and out, Betty squeezing Jughead’s hand as they got lost in the mess of people. She cringed as she sat down, pulling her coat tighter to herself as they sat down in empty seats towards the back. 

“They could be sick,” she started in a hushed whisper, leaning closer to Jughead. “And it could be all over their jacket and jacket sleeves and now it’s all over us.”

“You’re looking far too into these people,” he chuckled. He waited a beat before he leaned closer to her, mumbling,”You don’t want to be that New Yorker, do you?” She frowned at him, huffing. “I want to point out something.” 

“And what is that?” she asked, holding her nose high as she looked at him. He snickered and she giggled, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You're such a bully.” He rolled his eyes jokingly and she rested her head back on his shoulder like she continued to do. “What did you want to say, Jug?”

“Oh,” he chuckled, fixing his hat. “I-I just wanted to say that I walked away today in-instead of getting really mad for, um, no reason.”

She moved her head, grinning as she looked up at him. “I know you did,” she whispered and he blushed a bright red. “I’m proud of you.” His blush only got darker, his face going from a rose red to more of a firetruck red. She smirked almost proudly, laying her head back down. “You don’t look bashful even in the slightest,” she teased and he groaned internally, adjusting his hat and gloves. 

They were off at their stops in a few moments, Betty groaning as she stood. She linked her arm through his, the two of them seemingly dragging themselves up the steps that led into the street. 

She sighed, mumbling, “You know how I said I want to live here? I don’t want to live here anymore. I would have bad knees by the time I was 25.” 

Jughead let a small laugh slip, shaking his head. “Betty Cooper with bad knees at 25?” he said in a questioning tone. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” 

“You never know,” she breathed, inhaling deeply. 

They walked in unison on their way to their next train, Jughead watching their feet and Betty doing the same. She was intent on watching their feet whereas Jughead was too focused on listening to her giggles and rhymes as she tried to keep their feet moving at the same time. 

She squealed when they got to the platform, smiling ear-to-ear. “We did it,” she laughed and he nodded, his smile trying its hardest to mirror hers. She watched him, her eyes shining and her smile falling to a small nervous smile. She bit her lip as she turned to face the tracks, her hands behind her back as she rocked on her feet. 

“You don’t look bashful even in the slightest,” he whispered in her ear and she snarled, giving him a light push that only made him laugh. 

He followed her into the train after it had stopped, Betty sighing when they got a few seats to themselves. “All alone at last,” she teased and he chuckled, shaking his head. 

“That’s how every creepy sex scene starts when they romanticize pedophiliac relationships in movies.” She rolled her eyes in a joking manner at his statement, resting her head in his lap. “Your head must be heavy,” Jughead started in a serious tone. “You’re laying it down an awful lot.”

She scoffed, huffing. “My biggest bully,” she uttered and he laughed, fixing her hat over her ears. “Thank you, they were cold.” 

“Anything for a Cooper.” She gave him a teasing look and he smirked, winking. 

The sound of the train going and stopping filled the car until they got off at their stop. They kept their distance as they took the short walk back to the hotel, Betty skipping and spinning as if she were a ballerina. Jughead couldn’t help but smile at the sight, feeling proud of himself. 

It wasn’t because he took credit in why she was so happy, he was proud that he had walked away. He didn’t expect it to be so easy, he tended to like putting up a fight. But he knew deep down if he hadn’t, he would have chipped away another piece of her and would have caused another day of dwelling and remorse later in the future. 

Betty paused her skip, waiting for Jughead to catch up to her before she started to talk. “You know what we should do?” she asked and he raised his brows as an answer. “We should watch the Harry Potter movies.” He scrunched up his face and she huffed. “Jug, come on. They’re good movies, I’m serious! Have you never seen a Harry Potter movie?” 

He shrugged, weighing the idea in his head. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “If I have, I can’t remember.” 

She ran ahead of him, calling, “Then we have to!” from the steps of their hotel. “Come on!” she laughed, holding out her hand. 

He groaned, stomping over to her and taking her hand. Her smile lit up brighter than the streetlights, and she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. 

She pulled him up the stairs and through the door, not dropping his hand until they were inside their room. She peeled off her coat, hat and gloves quickly, dropping them all on a chair as well as setting her boots beside it on the floor. 

Jughead did the same though much slower, watching her as she skipped over to her bag and pulled out her computer. “Come sit.” she whispered, giving him a quick glance with a small smile. He moved over to the bed, sighing as he sat down. “We will watch a movie a night,” she stated with a nod. “Sound good?” 

She looked up at him with a questioning grin and he nodded, offering a smile. “Sounds phenomenal,” he chuckled and she grinned. “For once, I’m being serious.” 

“Yeah,” she mocked. “I _totally_ believe that.” He rolled his eyes playfully and she giggled, starting the movie. “No complaining.” 

“Eh,” he uttered, shrugging. “Minimal complaining.” She gave him a look and he nodded, repeating, “Minimal complaining.” 

She sighed, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you always have to have room to complain when it comes to movies?” she asked, her eyes taking in every feature of his face. 

“I don’t know,” he chuckled, clenching his jaw and rubbing the back of his neck. “Complaining isn’t always horrible, sometimes I’m just pointing out things I think they could have done better. And complaining is, like, my whole personality. If I didn't complain, I wouldn’t be Jughead.” 

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t, now would you?” A boyish grin crossed his face and she bit her lip, fixing his hat when he started to reach for it. He sighed, clearing his throat as he fixed his shirt. “Let’s watch the movie now,” she said, her voice breathy. 

“Yeah,” he croaked, clearing his throat again when his voice came out much more hoarse than he expected it to be. “Let’s,” he finished softly. 

~

Betty closed the laptop, setting it on a chair before moving back over to the bed. She laid down next to Jughead after getting under the blankets, giving him a wry grin. “Please tell me you like Hermione,” she mumbled, her voice cautious. 

“Have you been told bad things about her from someone close before?” he asked, fighting a laugh.

“No,” she laughed, groaning. “People always call her annoying and I feel stupid for not seeing it.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “She’s not annoying, she’s headstrong—like you.” 

Her smile turned to a frown and she scoffed. “I am not headstrong,” she insisted, huffing. 

He shrugged, nodding. “Yeah,” he uttered. “You-You kinda are.” Her frown deepened and he sighed. “Betts, it’s not a bad thing. You’re just a little stubborn, that’s all. As a matter of fact, it’s one of my favorite things about you.” 

Her eyes suddenly began to sparkle and she inched closer to him. “Really?” she breathed, her breath fanning over his cheek. 

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, smirking. “You gotta be headstrong—it cancels out my assholeishness and my stupidity.” The giggle she let slip was bubbly and bright, and it made him grin wide enough for the whole world to see. 

She smiled when she finished, taking away more space between them as she pressed her forehead to his. They both started to laugh and he laughed, “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” she squeaked, the two of them continuing to laugh until they let out breathless sighs. They were breathing heavily and their closeness was only spiraling the two of them into a hole of desire. 

Though the desire wasn’t sexual, not even a little. It was more domestic, it had a homey feel to it. They each wanted to prolong the moment, they wanted to continue to stare into each other’s eyes for ages, never wanting to worry about a thing in the world besides each other ever again. 

But Jughead felt something inside of him break. He didn’t know if it was a horrid memory, a fear, a present want, or a future need. All he knew was that he felt as if a weight was just tugged off of his shoulders. 

He felt tears start to burn and sting his eyes before they filled them, his chin starting to tremble. 

_Why am I crying?_ , he thought furiously. _I don’t cry_.

He let out a broken, choked sob and Betty pulled back quickly, watching him with panicked eyes for a moment. He was a completely composed, laughing, joking Jughead just moments ago, and now he was clutching his chest as he sobbed—but it wasn’t out of pain. 

He was balled into a fetus position and Betty felt her heart shatter. He was trying to swallow into himself, go back to being the private guy who showed no one his weakest points. He never cried in front of anyone, not since his dad had called him all sorts of names for doing so. 

_“You’re a man!” his father would bellow out, shaking Jughead’s small frame. “Men don’t cry!” he would finish, louder than he began._

He sobbed viciously when Betty pulled him into her chest, stroking his hair like she always did. She kissed his hairline, brushing his hair off of his forehead. 

“No!” he shouted abruptly, attempting to wriggle from her hold. “No, you shouldn’t see me like this!” His reserve was gone, he was vulnerable and she could take the advantage—this was dangerous. 

“Jughead, stop,” she whispered, her voice much softer than his. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he yelled. “It’s bad! It’s really fucking bad.” His voice broke as he mumbled the words, still struggling against her hold. 

“Stop, please!” she called out and he stilled. “You’re okay,” she cried, giving him a pointed look. “You don’t have to be this big huge man who doesn’t cry! Crying is okay, crying is healthy—stop making it out to be something so foreign.” He looked down in defeat and she curled herself into him. “I want you to be able to cry when you need to, it doesn’t make me view you as any less of a man. If anything, it makes me see you more as one.” 

He squeezed his eyes closed, hugging her as tight as he could while burying his face in her chest. “Cry, Jug,” she whispered. “Everyone does it. You’re not some alien who harbors no emotion. You’re Jughead, you’re human, you can let your guards down, I got you.” 

_November 18th_

Betty knocked on the door of the bathroom, walking in before Jughead said anything. “What are you doing?” he shouted from inside the shower, cursing when something fell.

“I want to talk,” she explained simply.

He poked his head out of the shower, keeping his body covered with the curtain as he asked, “You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” She shook her head with a dainty smile and he groaned, shoving the curtain closed. 

“I don’t like that you think it’s not okay to cry,” she started and he rolled his eyes. “It made me sad.” 

“Everything that isn’t rainbows and unicorns makes you sad,” he grumbled and she huffed. “And we were raised by a completely different group of people. You don’t cry on the Southside. If you do, you’re prey and the wolves will be after you in no time.” 

She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “This isn’t the Southside, Jughead. You don’t have to be… _that_ you anymore, you can just be Jughead.”

“I am ‘just being Jughead’,” he sneered. “And you seem to not ever like it.” 

“Don’t do that,” she miffed, glaring and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s just annoying. You’re not going to stand there and blame me for your bullshit. I don’t understand why you think you have to be this big hard brick 24/7 but I don’t like it. I’d rather have you weeping into my chest than have you screaming bloody murder at me all because I stepped on the back of your shoe.” 

He clenched his jaw, stilling under the running water. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to get out, he didn’t want to see her. He was tired of being proven wrong, it was a deadly weakness of his, and he wanted her to stop knowing more about him than he did himself. 

“Get out,” he mumbled, turning off the water. She sighed as she stood up, closing the bathroom door softly as she left. He dried himself with the towel before he wrapped it around his waist, leaving the bathroom to go into the bedroom. 

“I don’t want you to be like this,” she stated and he groaned. “Jughead, stop! Stop rolling your eyes, stop groaning, stop being an asshole! Look at me!” He breathed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to face her. “Stop pretending, please. I don’t want to see you force these walls up around yourself, it’s not worth it. You can show emotion, you won’t get murdered because of it.” 

He wiped a hand over his face, turning away from her. “Are you done?” he gritted out, bending over and reaching for his bag. 

“No, I’m not.” She was furious, she was tired of the attitude. She hated that she was acting like a mom, but like he had said, she was headstrong and she was going to get her way. “Listen to me, that’s all I’m asking.” 

He huffed, shouting, “I am listening-”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” she shouted, interrupting his own shout. He clenched his jaw, ducking his teeth. “Stop acting like someone you’re not. Jesus Christ, just because you cry doesn’t mean you’re not strong. I’m not going to call you names because you sobbed. I don’t want to explain this to you again, I’ve only said it a few times and I’m already tired of it.” Jughead looked away from her, sighing. 

“I am not whoever told you you can’t cry,” she whispered, stepping towards him. “I get it, you basically raised yourself, but you’re not alone anymore. I’m here too and… and you have to listen to me sometimes as well as yourself. I know you hate that and I know you’ll never admit it but you’re more headstrong than I am sometimes, but we are in this together.” 

“In what together?” he panicked. Did she know? Had he not hidden the scans well enough? Did she find them?

She shrugged, brushing hair off of his face and wiping a droplet of water off of his cheekbone. “Everything,” she breathed, cupping his cheeks. “You may be mean, you may hurt me… but I’m not going to leave you, I can’t leave you. I want to help you with whatever you need help with. I don’t care what it is, but we have to agree on something: we don’t pretend around each other, I hate that. Veronica and Kevin we’re people I thought I knew but I ended up not knowing them at all. I don’t want that to be you, understand?” 

She tilted his head down to hers when he glanced away, raising a brow. He swallowed thickly, nodding. “I understand,” he muttered and she watched him closely. “I swear,” he chuckled and she nodded, pulling his face down. She placed a kiss to his forehead, wiping away the smudge her lip gloss left behind. 

She held up her hand, holding out her pinky. “Pinky promise,” she insisted, holding her hand towards his. 

He scoffed, doing the same. They linked their pinkies together, touching the tips of their thumbs to each other before they broke the hold. Betty giggled, grinning ear-to-ear.

~

Betty threw herself onto the bed, Jughead widening his eyes as he set his book down. “Can we go to Central Park?” she asked, her smile weary. “Please?” 

“Why are you asking?” he chuckled, standing up. ”We’re here for a reason Betty and that reason wasn’t to just sit inside all day.” 

“I like this Jughead,” she uttered under her breath, scurrying off the bed. 

They each pulled on their outerwear, Jughead grabbing the keycard as they left. Betty stayed at his side as they moved to the Subway, mumbling happily to herself and he found himself humming along in his head. 

He tried to stop it, this phantom, but it wasn’t working so he continued to hum the tune he didn’t know. It was catchy and it wasn’t hard to figure out the chorus. He believes it was from one of her multitudes of Disney movies she enjoyed watching a little too much. But he had to admit, most of the newer ones did have good soundtracks. 

“Have I made you watch _Tangled_ yet?” she questioned, looking over at him after they sat down in the subway train. He shook his head and she gasped. “After Harry Potter, we’re watching _Tangled_.” 

“You said that a month ago when we watched your Halloween movies,” he pointed out and she huffed. “Are you actually going to make me watch it this time?” 

“Yes, I am,” she said with a glare. “You can mark my words.” He nodded in a mocking way and she gave a light push to his shoulder. “I’m serious!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he mumbled and she gasped, groaning. She crossed her arms over her chest, falling against the back of the seat. He moved closer to her ear, whispering, “Do you want to make a note to remind yourself?” 

“Oh!” she groaned, giving him a harsh glare. He smirked a smirk the devil would wear and she huffed. “Jerk.” 

“Princess,” he teased, raising a brow. 

Her eyes widened and she swallowed thickly, turning towards him. “Prick.”

“Prude.”

She gasped and he had a wry look on his face. She rose to her knees, her look playful as she muttered, “Ass.”

He shrugged, joking, “Clichè.” She rolled her eyes, setting her hands on his thigh to keep steady as the car moved. “Priss.”

“Must you start every insult with a p?” she teased and he forced a chuckle. “Personally, I think you’re selfish.”

He hummed, furrowing his brows and she nodded. She gasped when the car jerked and she slipped, her hand cupping him over his jeans. They both stilled, their eyes glued to the contact. He could feel the warmth of her hand through his jeans and he clenched his jaw, trying to stay at bay so he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of these people. 

She pulled her hand away, folding it into her chest and clutching her wrist with her hand as if she was hurt. Her eyes were wide when they met his and she swallowed thickly. “Sorry,” she muttered innocently, shrinking down into her seat. 

Jughead was dumbfounded. He was staring at the ground, his eyes wide as he tried to process what the hell just happened. He wanted to say they were dating so they could go back to their awkward stage where they didn’t touch and chose to stay far away from each other—that was safer than this. 

“I don’t think you’re anything that I called you,” she whispered and he looked over at her. Her eyes were still wide when she looked up at him and she let out a deep breath. “I just thought we were teasing.”

“Yeah,” he gasped, nodding. “I-I didn’t… we were just teasing.” The corners of her mouth turned up every-so-slightly, forming a forced smile before she bit her lip as they both looked away from each other. What did they just do?

~

“Betts, there’s no ducks.” Betty frowned up at Jughead, stepping away from the edge of the bridge. “It’s the middle of November, they migrate in, like, September and are usually gone by the first snowfall.” 

“That’s not always true,” she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just wanted to see ducks.” 

“Trust me,” he chuckled. “There are many more times in the year when you can see your ducks.” She rolled her eyes sassily and he smirked, nodding. “Where are you taking me next?” 

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” she said, tilting her head to the side as she laughed. “And we’re going to the Bethesda Terrace.” 

“The who?” he asked, his look confused. 

She huffed, fighting a laugh. “It’s really pretty from what I’ve seen online and I want to see it in person.”

He nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets when the wind blew. “Where else are we going?” he asked after a beat and she shrugged. 

“I know I want to go over the bow bridge, but really after that…” she shrugged again, giving him a smile. “It’s wherever the wind takes us.” He chuckled and she grinned, biting her lip. “Could we maybe stop somewhere for dinner when we’re done? Ooh, or could we get hot cocoa?” 

Her eyes were hopeful as she watched him, her lip held tightly between her teeth. “Yeah,” he chuckled, nodding. “I’m not going to keep you from your cocoa.” 

She laughed, linking her arm through his. “I drink hot cocoa too much,” she muttered and he looked over at her. “My mom has had to limit me once.” 

“Limit you from hot cocoa?” he asked, amusement shining in his eyes. She nodded with a giggle and he asked, “Why?” 

“I drank it way too much. I was, like… nine-ish, I think, when she did it.” She sighed, giggling. “It’s stupid, but I just drank it too often, my mom didn’t like it, so I was only allowed maybe 2 cups a week.” 

“How many cups were you drinking before?” he asked, biting down a laugh. 

She shrugged, wincing. “Maybe 3 or 4 a day,” she muttered wearily and he looked at her with a slacked jaw. “I know! It was bad, but I’m better. I don’t drink it as much anymore, but it’s still probably my favorite warm drink. It’s innocent, you know? Like, when we were younger and we’d go sledding then we’d come back to my house, and my mom would have made hot chocolate and my dad would have started the fire…” She swallowed thickly, her voice going small. “And there’d be tons of blankets and pillows and we’d watch Christmas movies until we fell asleep.” She sighed, chewing her lip.

Jughead cleared his throat, fixing his hat as he whispered, “Well, that got sad.” She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. “My mom always kept hot chocolate around for you,” he confessed softly and she looked up at him with furrowed brows.

“I wasn’t allowed inside,” she stated. “Like ever.” 

“I know,” he winced, fixing his hat again. “But still. She-She always had it. I didn’t really ever drink it and my sister was too young to, so it sat there. It was more my dad that didn’t want you inside. My mom, she enforced it but that didn’t mean she wanted to. She liked you, she’d be happy to know we’re… us again.” 

“You don’t talk to her?” she questioned softly, watching him with careful eyes. 

He shook his head, sighing. “I haven’t said anything to her since… since before she left. I don’t even remember what the last thing I said to her was. I don’t know if it was nice, mean. I don’t know if it made sense or if it was gibberish. I don’t know where she went so I can’t contact her, I can’t talk to my sister either.”

“What about your moms parents?” He shook his head and she waited a moment before she asked, “Not alive?” 

“No,” he breathed. “They’re alive, but they don’t know where she is either. It’s like she disappeared from us all with Jellybean. I haven’t seen either of them in eleven years. For all I know, Jellybean might not even go by Jellybean, she may not even be a Jones. Which is probably for the better, but…” He trailed off, shrugging. 

She hugged his arm, breathing deeply. “I’m sorry, Jug.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she hugged his waist, kissing his chest through his jacket. “I’m sure she misses you,” she whispered and he sighed. 

“She… she left me with the worst person that she possibly could. Do you really think she misses me?” She looked up at him, nodding. “No,” he muttered. “She can’t.”

“That’s what you think,” she pressed and he let out a deep breath, tucking hair from the back of his head into his hat better. “That’s not what I think and nothing you say is going to change that fact. She misses you, I’m sure of it, but she’s most likely staying away because she doesn’t think you miss her.” 

“Don’t you think it should be given to her that I miss her?” he grumbled and Betty gave him a pointed look. 

She stopped their walk, cupping his face and forcing their eyes to meet. “She misses you, I promise you that.” She gave him a small smile, kissing his forehead. She turned a moment later and skipped ahead of him towards the terrace. 

~

Betty frowned at the weather app on her phone, flashing it to Jughead when he looked over at her with furrowed brows. She tucked her phone into her coat pocket, holding the cup of cocoa closer to her face. 

“There’s supposed to be a really bad storm,” she sighed. “We’re gonna get snowed in until we leave.” 

“You’re Betty Cooper who’s bursting with energy 24/7,” he started and she rolled her eyes, ducking her head sheepishly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with something for us to do.” 

“Well,” she said, holding her nose high. “Do you have any ideas?” 

He ran his eyes over her as he stopped, taking a step up the stoop of the hotel. He shrugged, mumbling, “A few.” 

She hurried over to him, stepping on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder to whisper, “And they are…?” 

He scrunched up his nose, shaking his head. “Eh,” he breathed, sighing. “Don’t really feel like sharing.”

“Jug,” she whined, following him inside. “Tell me.” 

“No,” he chuckled, walking up the stairs to their room. “You don’t need my ideas to spark your own.” She gave him a snarl, huffing as she opened the door to their room. “Cute,” he called as she slammed the door to the bathroom dramatically. 

_November 19th_

“Look at all the snow,” Betty whispered, staring out the window like an excited child. She squealed, resting her cheeks on her fists as she watched the snow continue to fall and cover the ground. It was still pristine, white snow, not having been touched yet. 

Jughead started to write on the open word doc he had, trying to describe the way he felt because… well, that’s what people do when they write letters to people they like strongly, right?

He decided that morning that he would leave her a postcard and a letter from each place they went, just so she could remember what they did and him, he guesses. He knew it wasn’t like anybody even sent postcards anymore, he was honestly surprised they were still even being sold. Might as well send them while he can. 

“When it stops…” Betty started, glancing over her shoulder at Jughead. “Do you think we could go sledding?” 

“We can go tomorrow,” he said with a smile. She smiled wide, looking back out the window. He shook his head with a chuckle, going back to his writing. It wasn’t necessarily writing exactly, but it would be… maybe… at some point.

~

Betty pulled the remote out of Jughead’s hand and he gave her a disappointed look. “Your movies are boring,” she whined, setting her cookie down. 

“All you want to watch is Harry Potter. All the movies are becoming one,” he complained, huffing. “I can’t take it anymore.” 

“I would like to watch something in color,” she insisted, moving the remote away from him when he tried to grab it. “If I wanted to watch something in black and white, I would close my eyes.” 

“And you call me the bully?” he taunted and she snarled. “You’re as much of a bully as I am, admit it.” 

“I am not,” she scoffed, looking over at him. “I am much nicer than you.” 

She watched him with a challenging look and he stared back. His eyes dropped for a split second and he panicked. 

He clenched his jaw, clearing his throat. “Sorry,” she whispered, tucking hair behind her ear. “You’re-You’re doing good, you know.” He nodded, standing up off of the bed. “Where are you going?” she asked softly and he shrugged. 

He pulled on his coat, mumbling, “On a walk.” 

“Jug, I’m…” she sighed and he waited by the door. “It was harmless, I didn’t mean anything with what I said.” 

“I know,” he muttered, opening the door. “I’m walking away.” 

“You got pissed because I said I was nicer than you, seriously?” He clenched his jaw, resting his forehead against the door. “How old are you, Jughead?” He didn’t look back at her as he left and she groaned, scoffing. “Childish,” she muttered under her breath. 

~

Betty paced around the hotel lounge area, clutching her phone to her chest. She knew Jughead didn’t have one, but maybe he secretly did and he hadn’t told her about it or he hadn't felt the need to use it when she was around. She had also just gotten off of a call with her mom and had been far too nervous to make it last longer than 5 minutes. 

Jughead had left at around noon and the storm was calmer then, though snow was still flying around like no man's business. It was almost 9 o’clock now and the snow was coming down much harsher causing the temperature to drop below zero. She was panicked and worried and she couldn’t even bring herself to touch the food she had gotten from the kitchen for dinner. It was sitting in their room, now cold. 

She had started out staring out the window after her shower, brushing her hair as she watched the sidewalk. She had somehow navigated down stairs into the lounge where there were groups of people. They were getting business because of the storm and people needing places to hole up because it was just too cold to go home. 

Deep down, she knew she was being dramatic. He was an adult, he knew when he needed to find shelter and warmth, but he was also Jughead and he enjoyed proving people wrong. She also knew he knew he was being dramatic, although he wouldn’t admit it as easily as she would. 

The door opened and she hurried to see who it was, letting out a breath of relief as Jughead brushed snow off of his shoulders. She ignored everyone in the area, hurrying over to him and throwing her arms around him. He was freezing and his normal heat was gone. He wasn’t shivering so that was a plus. His bags were also covered in snow and it was soaking through her pajama pants, though she couldn’t care. He was okay. He was safe. Fuck her pants. 

Jughead stilled under her, sheepishly placing his hands on her back. “What are you doing?” he muttered through gritted teeth. People were looking at them and he was uncomfortable. 

“Are you okay?” she whispered, letting go of him to cup his face. She looked for something and he just blinked. _Why?_ , he asked himself. “Where have you been?” 

“Can we go upstairs?” he gritted out. She sighed, nodding. 

Jughead pulled off his coat as she opened their room door, wanting to go back out. The air between them felt weird—he couldn’t place why. Betty sat on the bed, her face relieved. He wasn’t. Sure, it was cold outside, but he wasn’t trying to bite down sexual attraction out there. 

His lust for her came back at roaring speed the night before. He honestly didn’t know it had gone away, he just knew her lips weren’t as tempting as they were before. Her boobs weren’t in his face anymore either. But he could barely sleep in the same bed as her the night before. That morning sitting in bed with her was almost his breaking point. 

He wasn’t hurt by her saying she was nicer than him. If that would have pissed him off, he would have chosen to be done right then and there. He was too lost listening to how bossy she had been all morning. She had also smelt like him and was wearing his clothes which he believes is what triggered it. 

The night before, she said she had run out of her shampoo and bodywash (it was a lie, the bottles were sitting half-full on the bathroom sink) and asked to borrow his. He wasn’t going to say no, that’s stupid. 

When she finished and came walking out of the bathroom, his eyes glued to her chest. His t-shirt was on her and he had no idea why. He didn’t question it, he let her have it, but Jesus Christ, it drove him nuts. 

He had met his limits that morning and that just so happened to also be the moment she commented on his irritability. He _was_ getting better (and that comment had only made his attraction for her begin to burn like an uncontrolled wildfire) but it was only because the damn doctor put him on meds for that too. He’s like a walking pharmacy. 

Betty cleared her throat and he was shot into reality. Her brows were furrowed and he looked away from her chest. _Now I’m a fucking perv?_ , he cursed in his head. He threw his coat and things down on the floor. 

“You okay?” she asked, the relief gone from her voice. Jughead pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding and sitting down in a chair. “Okay,” she mumbled. “So, where’ve you been?” 

“Um,” he choked out, clearing his throat. “There was this old bookstore I found. Some old man was inside, he was the owner, I don’t know why he was open. The bags are from there, I honestly don’t know what books I even bought. I just grabbed them based on the cover.” 

She looked at him in confusion, scoffing. “You’ve been at an old man's bookstore all day?” she fumed. His jaw slacked and he nodded, dumbfounded. “You’ve been in a bookstore?” she shouted and he nodded again. He felt like he was in a trance. 

“Oh my god!” she groaned, scoffing. “A bookstore! A fucking bookstore!” He blinked at her, finally closing his mouth. He wasn’t sure why it was open. “Of course you were in a bookstore,” she raged. “You couldn’t call me? Tell me you were okay?” 

His jaw slacked again and he just stared at her. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. All his answers were stupid. He had sat in a bookstore with an old man who had coffee and cake and just listened to him talk about his kids. The man was sweet, he never got his name, but Jughead really hoped he got to see his family some time soon. 

“Close your fucking mouth!” she yelled, stomping her foot. He covered his mouth, holding the bottom of his chin with his pinky. “A bookstore,” she muttered weakly, sinking into a chair. “A fucking bookstore. Leave it to you to find an open bookstore in the middle of a snowstorm.” She shook her head incredulously, dropping her head into her hands. She looked like a disappointed mother.

He cleared his throat, grabbing the bag and holding it out to her. “You can see what books I got,” he mumbled in a hushed voice. “I don’t know-” 

“I don’t care about your books!” she shouted and he winced, setting the bag down. “Jughead, you have been gone for 9 hours, do you understand how worried I was? Do you not see what it looks like outside? Jesus, Jughead, this isn’t a game.” He nodded sheepishly, averting her gaze. She swallowed thickly, sighing. “You were okay?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice small. He felt terrible. He had no idea she cared about him this much. Nobody cared about him this much. “We just talked and he fed me and gave me coffee.” 

“Why'd you go inside?” she asked softly. She ran her eyes over his face and he shrugged, looking down so she could only see the top of his hat. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered and she moved to the chair next to him to hear him better. “He seemed so alone.” He looked up at her and she bit her lip at the sadness in his eyes. “He had his door open and he was sitting in a chair by the register and he… he looked like he needed someone, you know? He’s only open because he needs money so he can see his family—his wife, she passed a few years back and things have been tight ever since. But he wants to surprise them, it’s been years since they’ve seen each other. I wasn’t being… _super_ reckless. I saw him and I thought ‘what would Betty do?’, and then I did it.” 

She giggled, smiling. She felt proud. “I would have at least called,” she teased and he chuckled, nodding. 

“I kinda screwed up that part,” he scoffed. “I was okay. He was good company, lots of stories.” 

“He stayed up with you until now?” she asked, her face scrunched. 

Jughead shook his head, fixing his hat. “I left a few hours ago, I went and sat in a… I was in the McDonald’s around the corner.” 

She huffed, giving him an incredulous look. “You were…” She sighed, letting out a deep breath. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?” 

“I don’t know,” he confessed, shrugging. “I-I didn’t want to. It had nothing to do with you, trust me. I think I was tired of being in one place all day, I hate that. It will most likely be the death of me.” She smiled tinily and he sighed. “I would have come back and-and I should have, but I’m not going to say I’m sorry.” She furrowed her brows, looking like she had been caught off guard. “I’m not sorry, so I’m not apologizing.” 

“You’re that person?” she asked, starting to smile with her eyes. 

He chuckled, nodding. “I don’t get the apologizing-for-everything thing. I apologize when… I honestly don’t. You are one of the only people I’ve apologized to.” 

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Well,” she sighed. “Then I guess that means you care?” she questioned, her eyebrow raised. He nodded with a grin and she nodded herself. She kissed his cheek, standing. “We have movies to watch.” 

He laughed as he took her hand, Betty tugging him over to the bed. “Ah,” he tsked as she reached for the remote. He shook his head, picking it up. “You’ve had it all day, it’s my turn.” She rolled her eyes jokingly and he smirked, turning on the TV. 

~

They hadn’t even found a movie before they were both laying down in bed, their backs pressed together. It gave Jughead a sense of control. He felt if it was just their spines touching and her foot rubbing mindlessly against his calf, he could somewhat control his urges. 

Just as he was starting to fall asleep he heard Betty’s voice cut through the dark in a soft whisper. “I can see you being the old guy in the bookstore,” she said, her smile evident in her voice. 

He grinned for a moment before it faltered and he felt his stomach churn. He hugged his stomach with one arm and fisted his shirt, clenching his jaw and burying his face into his fist.

He wishes he could be the old guy in the bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! Here’s the next chapter. I hope all of you are having a good day/night/etc. and are staying safe. I also hope you all voted if you were able to!! Thank you so much for reading!!  
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	6. Venice, Italy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 22nd_

The sun. It was bright, shining, casting a harsh glow on everything it touched. Even in the darkest spaces, the sun still managed to fill it with enough light so you could see the dark. 

Jughead often wondered what it would be like to be the sun. 

How did it feel? Was it sad? Happy? Angry? Frustrated?

How did it look? Was it really a bubble of burning gas like NASA claims it is, or is it just a floating bouncy ball?

Was it seriously that hot? He wasn’t convinced that it was. 

And, despite what people think, the sun is always there. It’s always lurking, always listening, always watching. So, maybe in some sort of odd way, he’s like the sun. 

No, he wasn’t bright—that was Betty. But he was somehow always there, catching things he wasn’t supposed to hear, see, smell. Maybe he was the sun, he did get blamed for a lot of things, and people did tend to complain about him when he was too blunt. 

“Come on!” Betty yelled from almost ten feet away. “Get up, you’re going to freeze!” 

Jughead huffed, pushing himself up off the ground and brushing snow off of himself. He was soaked and freezing, but he’ll still sled if it makes her happy.

“Can you believe we go to Italy tomorrow?” she asked, clapping her hands. “I can’t!” He sighed, taking the sled from her before she hit someone with it. “This is so exciting! I mean, I’m going to miss New York, but I can always come back here. But Venice? This may be the only time I can go!”

“I seriously doubt that,” Jughead muttered, and she gave him a confused look. “Honeymoon, vacations. This may be the only time you go, doesn’t mean it’s the only time you can.” 

She huffed, looking away. “No, too serious. Lighten up for one day, please? Be a kid,” she said with a smile. “And not in a drooly, eating your fingers sense. Just… have fun, play, laugh, smile—it won’t kill you, I promise.” 

“I do laugh… I do all of that,” he grumbled, breathing hard as they started to get further up the hill. “I would like to keep some of my common sense on me at all times.” 

“Not like you use it,” she teased, and he rolled his eyes. “You went to a bookstore in the middle of a snowstorm. Where was that sliver of common sense then?” 

“Shut up,” he scoffed and she chuckled. “Are we almost there?” he whined after a few moments. 

“Oh, calm down,” Betty huffed. “It’s right there, just a few more steps.” Jughead groaned, over exaggerating his breathing on the last few steps. “Drama king,” she muttered as he dropped the sled.

“I heard that,” he said, and she smiled. 

“You were supposed to.” He snarled and she nodded. “Now, sit. You go on the bottom, I go on the top—and don’t you dare twist my words in your head and make them sexual.” 

“Mm,” he hummed, shaking his head. “Yeah, nope. Already happened.” He shrugged and she groaned. 

“Sit,” she demanded, and he frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “What?” she asked.

He scoffed, saying, “You just talked to me like a dog.” 

“Oh, would you just sit on the damn sled?” she exclaimed, and he laughed. 

“You are so fun to piss off,” he chuckled, sitting down. 

She rolled her eyes, stepping in front of him and placing herself in his lap. “Okay,” she sighed. “We can go.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, his hands gripping the edge of the sled. She frowned over her shoulder and he huffed. “Fine,” he grumbled, pushing the two of them forward. 

She laughed and squealed happily, her hands holding his thighs tightly. He chuckled lightly himself and a smile cracked his face. 

Betty clapped and groaned when they reached the bottom, her head dropping back against his shoulder. He clenched his jaw, squeezing the edge of the sled until his knuckles were white so he wouldn’t touch her. 

“Wasn’t that fun?” she giggled, moving her head to the side to look at him. 

He nodded, giving her a smile. “Super… fun,” he mumbled. “But, um, I don’t wanna do it again.” 

“Oh,” she whispered, standing up and brushing off her clothes. “Okay.”

“You can if you want,” he said quickly. “I don’t mind waiting.” 

“No,” she muttered. “It-It’s cold and you’re soaked from laying in the snow. We should go back to the hotel… I have to, uh, pack anyways.” 

He watched her for a moment and she smiled. “Okay, then,” he uttered to himself, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to grab coffee or something on our way back?” he asked as she put the sled back.

She shrugged, moving to his side. “Hot chocolate?” she questioned with her brows raised and a questioning smile on her face.

He chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, we can get hot chocolate.” She squealed, clapping her hands. “I’ve noticed that you do that a lot.” 

“You wanna know what I noticed?” she mocked, threading her hands together behind her back. “You’re grumpy a lot.” 

“I’m grumpy a lot?” he echoed around a laugh. 

She nodded with a terribly hidden grin. “You’re like a grumpy old man who’s tired of life. Who just wants so go into his casket and curl up forever.” 

He chuckled, swallowing thickly. He cleared his throat, shrugging. “Well, you’re the… overly excited old woman at the nursing home.” 

“Yes, they’re full of life,” she said with a teasing smile. “So thank you.”

“You’re welcome for comparing you to an old woman,” he joked, and she laughed, chewing her lip. “So, Venice. You ready?” 

She shrugged, moving closer to him when they entered a busy street. “Yes, and no. I don’t wanna leave, ‘cause I’m still close to home here, but I’m also super excited to leave. I’ve never been out of the country before so this is all gonna be really new to me.” 

“Didn’t you go on that, like, Church camp trip thing?” he asked.

She scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “I never went to Church camp!” she exclaimed, smacking his arm lightly.

“Eh,” he muttered, furrowing his brows and giving her a confused look. “You sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure!” she shouted softly. “The only time we went to church was on holidays. Other than that, we were just the Cooper’s. Do I seriously come off as if I go to church?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Kinda, but not really.” Her jaw slacked and he chuckled. “You’re so pristine all the time! I’m not calling you a prude, because…” He raised his brows and she huffed. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “We agreed not to talk about that.” 

He held his hands up by his head, murmuring, “Not talking.” She rolled her eyes jokingly and he adjusted his hat. “ _But_ I am _not_ calling you a prude daddy’s girl with daddy’s money. You’re just very… your name literally means My God Is An Oath.” 

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know too much,” she mumbled. “You’re like a walking Wikipedia but if it was a grump.” 

“You’re sticking to that, aren’t you?” he asked, looking over at her. She nodded with a smile and he sighed. “Hot chocolate then hotel.” 

“Oh, yes. I’m sticking to grump while you stick to routine. Really,” she sighed, thanking him with a smile when he held the door to the shop open. “I didn’t think we’d end up this way, I was sure it would be reversed.” 

“Reversed,” he copied, nodding. “So you thought me—the guy who has been alone since he was 9 years-old—would be the bright and sunny one?”

“No,” she giggled. “I knew you weren’t like that.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I thought I would be the one who would be sticking to the schedule and everything, but I’m the one who isn't—I never do that. I just kinda thought that you would be… I don’t know, reckless? Well, you’re still reckless, but you know.” 

He nodded, furrowing his brows. “You know what,” he started. “I’m going to be stupid. I’m going to do anything I want.” 

“Oh, no,” she whimpered. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

“You said you thought I’d be reckless,” he chuckled with a smirk, stepping up to the counter. 

~

“You take very long showers,” Betty complained. Jughead rolled his eyes and tightened the towel around his waist as he walked out of the bathroom. She coughed as she stepped into the room, waving her hand in front of her face. “And they’re steamy, oh.” 

“Yours are worse,” he called, and she groaned, closing the door. He dropped his towel, picking his boxers off of the bed. 

“You know,” Betty started through the bathroom door, pulling it open. “You would think you would wipe the-” Her eyes widened, and she dropped the tube of toothpaste she was holding. 

He tried to pull his boxers up swiftly but it knocked him off the balance, and he tumbled to the ground. “Fuck,” he grumbled. 

She groaned as she stepped back into the bathroom, slamming the door closed and sliding down back against it. “Oh my god,” she breathed, covering her cheeks. “Oh my god,” she shouted, hiding her face with her hands and whining. 

“Do you, uh, want your toothpaste?” Jughead asked through the door, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Mnh-mnh,” she whimpered. “I’ll use yours.” 

He winced, muttering, “I don’t have any, I’ve been using yours.” 

“Oh,” she whined. They were silent, both of them not wanting to face each other yet. “Are you dressed?” she asked softly. 

He nodded. “Yes,” he answered sternly. “I’m-I’m-I’m… yes.”

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she opened the door, reaching her hand out blindly. “I trust you,” she mumbled. “But I really don’t wanna look yet.” He chuckled, placing the tube of toothpaste in her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, pulling her hand in and closing the door. 

He sighed deeply, turning away from the door and tucking his hands in his pockets. He sat down on the bed, scoffing. 

At the beginning of the trip, they were a couple. Happy (well, she was, so they both were), smiling (again, she was), and excited (that was her too). 

Now they’re ‘broken up’ (if they were even actually a thing to begin with), arguing like an old couple (though they’ve gotten better), and too embarrassed to look at each other over a tube of toothpaste. 

By the end of their whole trip, she’ll either be relieved or upset (maybe even happy) and he’ll be coming back in a body bag (if he comes back). Maybe life seriously is crazy.

The bathroom door opened, Betty’s hand over her eyes. “Please tell me your penis is put away,” she mumbled, and he squeezed his eyes closed. Why?

“My…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is put away.” 

“You promise?” she asked, peeking through her fingers. He gave an exhausted nod and she sighed. “It’s flaccid?” 

“Betty!” he exclaimed, huffing. 

“What? I’m just asking,” she muttered, and he wiped his hands over his face. “You still have to take your medication in the morning,” she stated and he groaned, laying down on the bed. His head started to pound and he tried to take deep breaths. “Just because we’re traveling, they’re still…” 

Her voice drained away as buzzing took over and his eyes started to burn. He buried his face into the pillow, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had a headache this bad. He was constantly downing Advil and Ibuprofen like they were candy. He was basically becoming a drug addict but he couldn’t help it. It didn’t completely take away the pain, it just drained it out enough to the point where it wasn’t killing him. He had run out of both medications and he could only take his prescribed one once a day—it was much stronger than the others. 

“Jug, are you listening to me?” Betty asked softly. “Are you okay? Am I… am I annoying you? I know I’m not supposed to ask that-” 

“Stop talking,” he grumbled and she clamped her mouth shut. 

She sighed, chewing her lip. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

“Betty,” he gritted out, feeling his stomach start to churn.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I-I just want to know—oh,” she muttered as he sprung up out of bed, cringing when she heard him heaving into the bathroom toilet. He gagged and coughed, spitting. 

“Close the door,” he called, flushing the toilet.

“What-” 

“Close the goddamn door!” he shouted before he heaved again. She hurried out of bed, slamming the bathroom door closed and jumping back and away from it. 

When it went silent, she stepped back towards it. “Jug,” she tested, chewing her lip. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, go,” he said through the door. 

“Are you-”

“Betty,”

“Yes, I’m going,” she whispered, walking back over to the bed. She laid down, pulling the blanket around herself. 

She looked over her shoulder when the bathroom door opened and he glared. “Turn around,” he muttered and she moved her head with a huff. 

“You are always so mean-” 

“Betty, I’m not in the fucking mood,” he shouted and she gave him a concerned look. “My head is killing me, I feel like shit, I am exhausted—please, just shut up. I don’t want to hear how I’m mean, I don’t want to hear how I should act. I just want to go to sleep, okay?” 

She clenched her jaw, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, okay.” 

He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “Betts-”

“No, Jug,” she scoffed, sniffling. “I get it. You get to be an ass and I just have to sit back and deal.” 

“I never said you had to do that-”

“Go to bed,” she whispered. “We’ll be over this in the morning.” He sighed, laying down behind her and pressing his back to hers. “I also know you didn’t take your meds this morning,” she whispered into the dark and he squeezed his eyes closed. “You took your painkiller and that’s it. You’re already avoiding them when you know you need them. You promised me,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “You promised me you’d take them.” 

“I know,” he whispered, rolling over and hugging her. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want to hear I’m sorry, Jughead!” she shouted and he buried his face in her hair. “You have to take your medication, you have to! It’s not decoration, it’s supposed to help you! They gave it to you for a reason,” she sobbed, squeezing his arm. “You have to take it.” 

“I’ll take it-”

“I don’t want words,” she cried. “I don’t want promises, I want you to take it.”

“And I will, Betts,” he whispered, kissing her head. “I swear, I will.” 

_November 23rd_

Jughead groaned when Betty’s alarm went off, shoving his pillow over his head. He just woke up and he already has a headache. Maybe his brain was getting fried. 

“Jug,” Betty laughed, shoving him. “Get up! Get up, get up, get up!” she shouted, jumping out of bed. “We’re going to Italy! We’re going to Italy!”

“Betty,” he groaned, holding the pillow tighter over his head. “Please.” 

“No!” she exclaimed, moving over to him. He grunted when she jumped down onto his back. “Come on, Jug. We’re going to Italy. Italy! It’s Italy, aren’t you excited? Why aren’t you excited?” she pouted, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

“Maybe it has something to do with you sitting on my spine and shouting in my ear? Did we think of that?” he asked with a disappointed look. She frowned, sighing and rolling to his other side. “Don’t you dare start to pout,” he mumbled, getting out of bed. 

“You’re always in a bad mood,” she huffed and he groaned. “Are you ever happy? Like _actually_ happy?” 

“Yes, often,” he stated, standing up out of the bed. “Are we done? I would like to shower.” She sighed, looking away from him. “There you go—whine and pout, whine and pout. That’s all you fucking do. Godforbid you don’t get your way-”

“You think I’m upset because I’m not ‘getting my way’?” she asked incredulously and crossed her arms over her chest. “Jughead, all you do is shout and yell and get pissed over the tiniest things but I’m the one who’s the pouty, annoying, whiny bitch?” 

“I never called you that!” he shouted.

“But I’m sure you thought it!” she yelled back and he sighed, shaking his head. “This is your trip, not mine. You didn’t do this for me, you did it for you yet this whole time, you’ve hated it. You complain, you shout, you bitch. If you don’t like this, then why are we going to Italy? You’re never happy, you’re never having a good time. Why are we going?” 

He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Okay? I don’t fucking know why we’re going. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to be home either, I just don’t want to be _here_. I am so tired of being here because everything I do… I ruin everything.” She let out a breath, her face softening. “My answer is: I don’t know. I-I haven’t known what we’re doing since this started.” 

He sighed, turning towards the bathroom but stopping. “You know,” he started, leaning against the doorframe. “Maybe I am doing it for you.” She swallowed thickly, her hands curling around the hem of her t-shirt. “I think I’m doing it for you.” 

He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. She let out a breathy gasp, sinking down onto the bed. She placed a hand over her heart, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a long, deep breath. 

~

There was awkward silence between Betty and Jughead up until they boarded the plane. She was trying to make sense of what he said, she wasn’t sure what he was doing. 

They were lost or they looked lost—emotionally. They knew where they were physically, mentally but emotionally, they didn’t know. 

Jughead was fighting between choking her or choking her and Betty was fighting between crying out his name or screaming at him. 

So maybe it wasn’t emotional, but it could be. Jughead wouldn’t know the difference, neither would Betty. 

Betty inhaled deeply, looking over at Jughead. “I don’t want you to do this for me,” she whispered and he glanced over at her. “I don’t want you to waste money on me.” 

“Betty,” he sighed. “I’m doing this for you because… seeing you smile over a pigeon carrying away a piece of bread…” She giggled and he chuckled. “It just makes it worth it. I know I’m… I know I’m an ass and I know I really need to take my fucking meds, but that doesn’t mean I _want_ to hurt you. Seeing you smile, hearing you laugh… that’s still the highlight of my day.” 

She chewed the inside of her lip, swallowing thickly. 

“So you gotta let me do this for you,” he continued. “You have to, Betty. You can’t back out.” 

She furrowed her brows, running her eyes over his face. “It’s that important?” she murmured and he nodded.

“It’s that important,” he breathed, turning away from her.

They fell silent again until the flight took off and Betty got antsy, turning towards him again. “I don’t want you to ignore me this whole flight. Well, two flights, but-but still. It takes 10 hours and that would be a long, silent 10 hour flight.” 

He slowly closed the book in his hands, looking at her. “What do we have to talk about?” he droned. 

“We never actually talked about what happ-” 

“We’re not talking about that,” he interrupted. “We agreed not to talk about that.” 

“Okay,” she murmured, smoothing her hands over her thighs. “Um, what are we gonna do for Thanksgiving?” 

“Do they even celebrate Thanksgiving?” he questioned and she laughed quietly with a shrug. “We can pig out and stay in the hotel. Just like I do at home. It’s honestly better than all the family bullshit, no arguments over politics.” 

She nodded, licking her lips and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Jughead let out a silent breath, clearing his throat. He wiped a hand over his face and let out a deep breath. 

_No, no, no_ , he chanted in his head. _No, don’t think about that. Don’t think about it, you don’t have to think about it._

Someone walking through the aisle bumped Betty and her hand slipped off of the armrest and into Jughead’s lap. He froze, his hands clenching tightly around the armrests. 

Her eyes were huge when she looked up at him, her hand still glued to his thigh. Her hand was warm and his sweatpants were thin, they didn’t hide much and if she didn’t move her hand soon, he would die—like Romeo and Juliet dead. Never coming back over something pretty fucking stupid. 

She bit her lip and he looked away quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_God, just take me now_ , he thought. _Jesus Christ, you aren’t there but fuck. I’ll believe it if it means it gets me out of this situation._

“Sorry,” she whispered and he looked back at her. She slowly peeled her hand away, holding her wrist and hand to her chest. “I-I slipped, it just-it just slipped. I didn’t mean to… it would have been worse if I…” Her laugh trailed off and she bit her lip. “I-I have to, uh, go-go to… to the, um, ba-bathroom.” 

He nodded and she left her seat swiftly, hurrying off down the aisle. He cleared his throat when she was gone, lifting his waist and smoothing his hands over his thighs. He settled back into his seat, shaking his head. This was going to be a long flight. 

_November 24th_

Jughead looked over at Betty who hugged his arm tighter, burying her face further into his neck. He didn’t really know when she moved the arm rest or when she had completely conked out and decided to use him as a human pillow. It all just happened. He had been reading, heard a whine and a whimper, and looked over to be met with her face centimeters from his. 

Her hair was already a mess and she looked distressed. Maybe it was because of a dream or nightmare. If it was a nightmare, he thinks she would be more distressed than she already was. 

An attendant started to talk over the intercom and Jughead sighed. He didn’t want to land, but at least when they got off the plane they would go straight to the hotel and straight to bed. It wasn’t because he got to sleep, he just wanted to be in something other than a goddamn chair. 

“Betts,” he whispered softly. “You gotta get up. We’re about to land.” She whined, shaking her head. “You have to get up, I can’t really carry you off the plane.” 

“You should try,” she mumbled, sighing.

“Get up,” he chuckled and she groaned, sitting up and wiping her eyes. 

“Are we there?” she whispered, a small tired smile on her face. “Are we really there?” 

“We’re really there,” he muttered and she grinned. “Don’t squeal. You cannot squeal.” She whimpered and he sighed. “Squeal later.”

“What are we gonna do?” she asked, watching out his window. “This is a whole new place, we’ve never been somewhere like this before. New food, new people, new places. Isn’t this exciting?” she exclaimed and there were groans throughout the whole plane. 

Betty gave him a look of embarrassment and they both started to laugh. She dropped her head to his shoulder. “I think that’s a sign that you should have waited,” he whispered and she laughed again. 

“I’ve never realized how annoying that is-” 

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted quickly and she gave him a wide eyed look. “It’s not annoying, you just… you sometimes do it at inappropriate times. It’s 2 am here, not 8. People… it’s bedtime.”

“It’s Monday?” she asked incredulously and he nodded. “That’s a whole day of just… just flying. Also, you’re being really nice which is rare for you. See what taking your meds does?” 

“I deserve that,” he mumbled and she sighed. “I really… it’s hard to explain why I don’t like taking them. I would say I don’t like how they make me feel. But… it’s not because I don’t like it, it’s because I don’t know how to handle it.” 

She shifted so she was facing him, asking, “What does that mean?” 

“Like I said,” he muttered, running his eyes over her face. “It’s-It’s hard to explain.” 

“Do they make you feel bad?” she asked softly and he could feel her breath fanning over his cheeks. 

He let out a breathy chuckle, clearing his throat. “N-No. If they, uh, made me feel like that, I would have just said that I don’t like taking them.” 

“So they make you feel good,” she mumbled. “That’s… that’s a good thing, right? Why is-Why is that not a good thing?”

“It’s complicated,” he said and she narrowed her eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated if you just tell me how it makes you feel,” she giggled and he rolled his eyes. “Why won’t you tell me?” 

“It’s complicated,” he emphasized and she huffed, dropping her head back against her seat. She opened her mouth to speak and he talked over her. “Don’t you dare call me a pain. I know that’s what you want to say, but I don’t want to hear it because it’s not going to get me to tell you why I don’t like taking my meds.” 

She snarled, breathing deeply. “As long as you’ll keep taking them,” she droned. “I won’t ask.” He smirked, nodding. 

~

“Look! Look!” Betty shouted from their balcony. “It’s Italy!” He grabbed her hand, pulling her inside. She huffed as he closed and locked the doors, giving him a disappointed look. “What was that for?” 

“Betty,” he sighed. “It is almost 3 in the morning here. People are going to bed—people are in bed—let’s let them stay there.” She rolled her eyes and he shrugged. “Isn’t it past your bedtime anyway?” 

She gasped, grabbing a pillow off of the bed and throwing it at him. “That is just so-ugh!” she groaned, throwing another one at him and starting to laugh when he did. “Stop it!” 

He threw one back at her and she laughed, hitting him with it when he stepped towards the bed. “We’re doing that?” he asked, still laughing. 

She continued to hit him as a response and he hit her back. She knocked the pillow out of his hand, squealing when he wrapped his arm around her waist. He backed them up into a chair, his other hand mindlessly wrapping around her throat as he fell back. 

She let out a gasp and soft whimper at the feeling. His mind started to race. Heat smothered her. Electric sparked between the two of them and they stilled, breathless. 

“We should move,” Jughead panted, swallowing thickly. 

“Yeah,” Betty said breathily, leaning into his hands. “We should.” He chewed his lip and she let out a breath. “I think you have to move first…” 

“Oh,” he mumbled, clearing his throat as he pulled his hands away. “S-Sorry, I’m-I’m sorry.” 

“No,” she breathed, giggling. “You’re okay. You’re-You’re… yeah, you’re… there was nothing wrong with it,” she chuckled, stumbling over the corner of the bed as she backed away. “It was h—” She cut herself off, clearing her throat. “Yeah, it’s o-okay.” She chuckled, humming. “Oh, I am, um, so-so tired. So tired, long-long day.” She shrugged and he nodded, slowly standing. “We should go to, uh, b-bed-bed.” 

They crawled into the bed like normal, their backs pressed together, each of them holding the blanket tightly in their fists. They were both basically holding their breaths, afraid to breathe. 

Betty inhaled sharply, mumbling, “Should we-”

“Nope,” Jughead cut off. 

She went silent, whispering, “Not even-”

“Not even,” he interrupted, repeating her words. “We-We don’t talk about this or… or that night.” 

She squeaked, “But-” 

“Betty,” he said sternly over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I talk when I’m nervous.” 

“I know you talk when you’re nervous,” he whispered and she rolled over quickly.

She looked him in the eye with furrowed brows, asking, “How do you know?” 

He sighed, rolling over completely so he didn’t strain his neck. “Freshman year, we had bio, algebra, art and global together. Every single time—without fault—when you would have to answer a question, you would ramble for probably five minutes.” 

They laughed and she shook her head. “Oh my god, that was embarrassing.”

He chuckled, grinning. “Um, sophomore year, we had english and pre-calculus. You did the same thing. You didn’t know I was in those classes, you didn’t see me there. Sophomore year, I wasn’t there often anyway. But I saw you, as creepy as that sounds, I saw you, I watched you, I had nothing better to do. I wanted to talk to you, I just didn’t have the guts to say anything.”

“Thank god I did then,” she giggled and he nodded. “I saw you sometimes in the hall. I-I should have… I should have said something sooner. You always looked… so-so alone. You just… I felt horrible everyday for what I did. And then you just… it’s like you disappeared. Where’d you go?” she asked softly and he clenched his jaw. 

“I just went through some-some shit,” he mumbled, looking away from her eyes. “I had some… some issues but they eventually went away.” 

“What kind of issues?” she questioned. 

He breathed deeply, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about,” he murmured. 

She tucked her hands under her head, chewing her lip. “Did it have to do with your dad?” He shook his head and she ran her eyes over her face. “Mom?” 

“No, it had nothing to do with my family,” he sighed and she furrowed her brows. “It’s-It’s hard to explain, Betty-” 

“That’s all you say,” she interrupted. “It’s always ‘hard to explain’ when it really isn’t. Why won’t you tell me about any of this? You’re-You’re my friend, my-my best friend. Why won’t you… why won’t you talk to me?” He squeezed his eyes closed, uttering to himself. “I get it, I’m pissing you off, but I’m being serious, Jughead! I want to know these things, I’m tired of being in the dark.” 

“Being in the dark is probably the safest place for you to be,” he stated and she scoffed. 

“What the hell does that mean?” she huffed. “You are—ugh! I ask you simple— _simple_ —questions about your past and you just won’t fucking let me in!” she shouted, sitting up. “What? Is it because you don’t know anything about me?” 

“No,” he groaned.

“Well, I’ll tell you some shit! My dad left my mom for a woman he met at a bar—it’s like fucking _Grey’s Anatomy_ but without the friendship and doctoring!” She laughed, wiping her face.

“My sister left Jason because Jason beat her—beat her, Jughead! I didn’t get to have any emotion during any of this because I had to be the strong one, I had to hold everyone together!” she cried and he clenched his jaw, his eyes still closed. 

“I didn’t get to yell! I didn’t get to cry! I didn’t get to do anything! I had to sit and smile while my dad moved out of our house and my mom sobbed! I had to sit and smile while my sister changed bandages—that means gauze and wraps and peroxide—because Jason was an asshole!” she sobbed. 

He took in slow deep breaths, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to hold her, but he wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted. 

“I couldn’t do anything then and now I’m done!” she yelled, gasping. “I’m done being everyone's support system! Where’s mine? Where’s _my_ support system? Who do _I_ call when I’m done, when I feel like I can’t make it anymore?” 

“God,” he muttered. “Please don’t say that.”

“Who do I call?” she sobbed weakly. “Who, Jughead? I need _somebody_ -”

“Me, okay?” he shouted, cutting her off and sitting up so he could look her in the eye. “You call me! Fuck, I may not wanna be here but shit! _You call me_.” 

She sobbed violently, covering her face with her hands as she fell into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tight as he could, laying down on the bed. 

She clutched to him, crying and gasping. “Breathe, Betty,” he whispered into her hair. “You have to breathe.” 

He tried to move and she cried, “No!” He stilled quickly and she pulled him back to her. “No, you can’t move. You c-can’t… you can’t mo-move,” she sobbed, holding her head to his chest. “P-Please, you can’t.”

“Okay,” he breathed, kissing her head. “I’m not going anywhere, it’s okay.” 

~

“Are you going to get out of bed?” Jughead asked, wiping toothpaste off the corner of his mouth. 

“No,” Betty breathed, the blanket held tightly around her body. “I like it here—it’s warm and not dangerous.”

“Who the hell said Venice was dangerous?” he called from the bathroom. 

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Emotional dangerous,” she called back. She traced him around the room with her eyes, huffing when he walked into the living room area. “When you go outside,” she started. “You get hurt. I bet you I could walk outside and there will be a dead bird and that would be my sign that I should have stayed the hell inside.” 

“You know,” he said, dropping a pill in his mouth and swallowing. “You are so tiny yet so grumpy and it’s kind of adorable.” She groaned, pulling the blanket over her head. “Oh, come on,” he laughed. “You know you’re not hurting anyone with that look. You just look… you look miserable. Why are you miserable?”

She sighed and he sat down next to her on the floor, leaning against the nightstand. She looked him in the eye, holding the contact for long moments. Her eyes were somber, he may even dare say they were sad, and she looked like she was done with something. And not done as in ‘I finished!’ done as in ‘I can’t keep doing this’. She was as done with this thing as he was done with life. 

She let out a breath, looking away from him. “Like you love to say, it’s hard to explain.” He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes closed. Those words were horrible. “Take the rest of your meds, please. I have to shower,” she droned, slithering out of bed and into the bathroom. 

At times like these, he wanted to follow her. He wanted to walk into the bathroom with her. He wanted to help her undress. He wanted to whisper how much he cared about her, how much he loved, how beautiful she was in her ear. He wanted to take out her hair tie from her unruly morning hair. 

He wanted to breathe her in. He wanted to kiss her—slowly and delicately at first but then let passion take over and make it hard and sloppy, having her gasping and yearning for more but pulling away just before it became too much. 

Then he’d help her into the shower, let the water—hot, but not boiling, they weren’t trying to melt each other's skin off—run over the both of them but mostly her. He’d watch it run over her skin until it slid down to where he couldn’t see it anymore. 

He wanted to wash her hair and tell her it will all be okay. He wanted her to wash _his_ hair and tell _him_ it would be okay. Afterwards, she’d turn and they’d just stare. He didn’t know why they would stare, it’s something they just started doing recently. It was odd, really. 

But he would kiss her, like he did before, but this time it would start out hard and gritty then melt to the soft strokes and brushes as he thrust into her, holding her against him with her back pressed against the shower wall. 

Her legs would be wrapped around his waist. Her hands would be in his hair tugging, pulling. Her head would be dropped back, exposing her neck to him. Her eyes would be squeezed closed, her mouth open in a silent shout. 

His head would be buried in her neck, keeping his grunts and groans to himself. He didn’t like beig vocal during sex, not with anyone. It creeped him out.

The water would be cold by the time they finished, but they wouldn’t mind. They would go back to bed huddled into one another and holding the blankets around each other tightly as if it would blow away. They would laugh breathily and smile wide as they talked about anything and everything, sharing stolen kisses in between that would make each of their stomachs-

His thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched and shocked shouted, “Jughead!” He scrambled to grasp reality, to figure out why she squeaked his name. “Get out!” she shouted and he realized he was in the bathroom. Goddamn daydream. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, hurrying out of the steamy room. “Sorry, I’m so so so sorry.” He slammed the door behind himself, checking his body. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, clenching his hands and walking over to where he was sitting before he wandered into the bathroom. 

He picked up the rest of his pills, taking the rest of them quickly. He’ll blame it on the meds. He blames everything on his meds and she has to believe him. She’s not taking them so she wouldn’t know that they actually just make him sexually frustrated and make his daydreams vivid. 

Well, his daydream did have sex incorporated into it and that would have to do with his sexual frustration of a broody 14-year-old who’s just figuring out his penis does other things. So yeah. 

_Totally the pills' fault_ , he thought. _Pills fault, not mine. Ha ha, total fucking mishap. Didn't mean to see your boobs!_

“Oh, god, don’t say that,” he whispered to himself, cringing. She would run away if he said that— _he_ would run away if he said that. He felt bad for anyone who _has_ said that. 

The bathroom door opened and Betty’s cheeks were flushed. 

He racked his brain for an answer that he’s sure was over dramatic. _Embarrassed? Water too hot? Flustered? That would go along with being embarrassed, dumbass._

“How long were you watching me shower?” she asked, steam coming out of the bathroom and filling their room. 

He shrugged, steadying his feet and fixing his hat. “I-I don’t… I’m not-not, um… I don’t-I don't know,” he stammered. 

“How do you not know?” she asked angrily. “You were standing there watching me like a creep! Creepers watch naked girls!” 

“I’m not a creeper!” he shouted and she huffed, her hands on her hips. “Betty, I swear to god I don’t know what happened. I don’t even… I don’t remember anything until you shouted my name. I was daydreaming, that’s it.” 

“Daydreaming caused you to watch me shower?” she questioned with narrowed eyes. 

“Yes!” he yelled and she clenched her jaw. “I swear, Betty. I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to be creepy. I started out here,” he said, pointing to where he was standing. “I started right where you left me and then I-I must have started walking or-or something. I don’t even remember getting up, Betts.” 

“You didn’t see anything?” she asked softly, picking at her hands. 

He shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I promise.” 

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she muttered. “I have to get dressed.” 

He nodded, pulling on the back of his hat as he stepped into the living room area, closing the doors behind himself. He paced as he waited, chewing his cheek. 

Was the tumor worsening? Was it getting larger? He wasn’t impulsive (yet) but it seems he was getting reckless. Can you be seen as reckless if you have no idea what you’re doing? Isn’t that what recklessness is based around? Betty did mention she expected him to be reckless, so maybe his brain tumor worsening was for the good. 

The doors from the bedroom opened and Betty stepped out with a sigh. “You really just… just wandered in like that?” she asked, brushing her hair.

“Yeah,” he whispered, sitting down. “I wouldn’t intentionally walk into the bathroom while you’re showering. I’m sorry, I really didn’t… I would never do something like that.” 

She nodded, turning away. “What are we thinking about doing?” she called from the room. “Breakfast?” 

“It’s about lunch time, Betts,” he called back and she popped her head out of the room with furrowed brows. “They’re 6 hours ahead of us. It’s 7 am there, but it’s 1 pm here.” 

She huffed, groaning. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” she shouted frustratingly. “That’s half the day wasted! God, we could have been up so much earlier, we could have seen shit by now, but no! Jughead decides to wake up now!” 

“Don’t pin this on me,” he responded. “I woke up two hours ago, you decided to pout in bed because… well, fuck, I don’t even know why.” 

“I had my reasons!” she yelled before her hairdryer switched on.

He rolled his eyes, pushing himself up out of the chair. He tucked his hands in his pockets, moving into the bathroom and dodging her hair and hands. “Where do you want to eat?” he yelled over the noise. He was actually hungry and he really didn’t want to wait. “Can’t we just order room service? I want to eat now.”

“Shouldn’t we go somewhere to eat?” she shouted. He felt bad for the people in the next room. “That’s what most people would do.” 

“I’m ordering room service,” he stated. “I’m hungry now and I don’t feel like waiting.” She groaned and he scoffed. “Calm down, we’re here for a week. You’ll get your Italian food.” 

“Shut up and go order your food,” she grumbled and he chuckled. 

~

“Look at it!” Betty said, gasping as she stared at the building. “What’s it called again?” She looked over his shoulder at her phone, reading the name out loud. “St. Mark’s Basilica,” she whispered under her breath.

He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo running through his blood. He held his breath until she stepped away with a wide grin. He cleared his throat, fixing his hat sheepishly. 

“Isn’t… wow,” she breathed and he smirked. She looked over at him and narrowed her eyes. “Stop it! It’s pretty, you’ve gotta admit it. We don’t have something like this in Riverdale. All we have is the school and-and the library and those aren’t even good looking! Those are just filled with nasty, mean, two-faced assholes.” 

He nodded, scoffing. “You’re not wrong,” he agreed, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s-It’s… pretty.” 

She looked over at him with an ear-to-ear grin, her eyes doe-like. “You really think so?” she questioned. He sighed and nodded. “I never thought I would hear you say that,” she mumbled. 

He chuckled, a grin splitting his face. “Our trip just began, I’m probably going to have to say that many more times,” he laughed while she giggled. 

“Still,” she breathed, moving closer to him. “You’re Jughead. You’re… dark and broody and-and… you only agree with yourself. You never… you’re not the kind of guy I would expect to call a building pretty.” 

He ran his eyes over her face, whispering, “No one said I was talking about the building.” She gasped, her hands squeezing her bag. “I said that out loud…” he whispered. “Um… c-can you… can you forget I said that?” 

She looked at him dumbfounded, her brows furrowed. “You…” she muttered, sighing. “Y-You-”

“Betty,” he called. 

She nodded hastily. “I’ll-I’ll forget. Prom-Promise.” He gave her an uncertain look and she raised her shoulders. “I swear!”

“I didn’t say it,” he said sternly and she nodded. “I mean it.” 

“I-I don’t even, um, know what we’re talking about,” she mumbled and he gave her an uninterested look. “I’ll-I’ll stop talking ab-about it.” 

He sighed, clearing his throat as he glanced away from her. “Are we done here?” he asked in a hushed whisper. 

She nodded, tucking hair behind her ear as she took her phone from him. “Um, yeah,” she breathed. “I-I think so. It’s about, uh, 6 o’clock. Maybe we could go to our…” She swallowed thickly when he glanced at her, chewing her lip momentarily before continuing. “Our-Our room and freshen up before, um, dinner?” 

He clenched his jaw, nodding. “I need an Advil anyway,” he grumbled, adjusting his hat. 

“You’re head?” she questioned and he glared. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I know it’s supid to ask but… you can’t be mad at me for something you said,” she huffed and he furrowed his brows. “It’s unethical and… and rude. Not even rude, it’s just… it’s cynical. Stop-Stop blaming me for… for your mistakes.” She let out a breath, swallowing thickly. “You said it, okay? You said it, you can’t take it back, you’re pissed you said it… but that doesn’t mean you have to-have to be an ass all of a sudden.” 

He blinked at her, looking away after a minute. “Are we going to keep giving these people a show or can we go back to our room and fight there?” he questioned, not looking at her. 

“Who said we were fighting?” she asked, her voice hushed. 

“It doesn’t take a neuroscientist to figure out that we’re both pissed and both on the verge of spatting at each other,” he scoffed. “This happens everywhere we go. We fight, I leave, you worry, we meet in the middle a few hours later.” 

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to fight,” she admitted softly. 

He nodded, sighing. “Then can we just go back to the hotel?” he asked and she nodded reluctantly. 

~

Betty watched Jughead stare at the water, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in thought. She let out a deep breath, setting her fork down and pushing her plate away. “I have the feeling that you don’t want to be here,” she mumbled. 

He blinked a few times, giving her a confused look as he questioned, “What?” 

She shook her head, looking down at the table. “Nothing, nevermind.” 

“No,” he stated, sitting up straight in his seat. “What’d you say?” 

Her eyes met his and she sighed. “I feel like you don’t want to be here,” she repeated and he furrowed his brows. 

“Where?” he asked.

She let out a slow breath, smoothing her hands over her thighs under the table. “ _Here_ ,” she whispered. “I-Italy. I just don’t… you don’t look like you want to be here.” 

He clenched his jaw, pulling out his wallet. “How much?” he questioned.

“Jug-” 

“I don’t want to start this here,” he said with a pointed stare. “How much?” 

Her jaw was slacked a moment before she shrugged. “I-I don’t know,” she answered. “You have to ask for the bill.” He nodded and did just that when a waiter came by. He paid in cash and stood up from the table, Betty following. They went back to their room in silence. 

Once they were there, Betty closed the door cautiously and sat down on the couch. “Jug,” she started softly. “What are you hiding?” 

“What?” he scoffed, standing up abruptly. “You think I’m hiding something?” 

“I-I don’t…” She sighed, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know anymore.” 

“You don’t trust me,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You don’t fucking trust me.” 

“I never said that-” 

“You think I’m hiding something!” he shouted and she squeezed her eyes closed. “That is you saying you don’t trust me. How… How can you…” He sighed, sitting down and rubbing his fingers through his hair, letting his hat fall to the floor. “Last night you said I was your best friend, and now about… 18 hours later, you’re telling me you don’t trust me.” 

“You just…” She sighed, giving him a sorry look. “You’re acting weird. You-You walk in on me showering, you compliment me then get mad at me when-when I want to talk—not that that’s new.” He rolled his eyes, looking at the floor. “And not to mention, you’re… you’re daydreaming and-and staring off into space. You’ve _never_ done that. I thought… I thought I knew you, and I was getting used to the-to the mean, asshole you. But this isn’t you and it’s leading me to believe that you’re hiding something.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “So what you’re telling me is that I have to tell you everything I do?” 

“No-”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Then we’re a married couple on the brink of divorce.” 

She let out a deep breath, tucking hair behind her ear. “Why are you making a joke out of this?” she asked. 

“Maybe because it’s insane,” he mumbled and she clenched her jaw. “I’m allowed to have shit that I want to keep to myself. I’m allowed to keep you away from things that’ll only hurt you. And I’m also allowed to keep myself away from things that will only hurt me.” 

She gave him a questioning look, breathing, “What does that mean?” 

He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “I explain it and then I’m dropped into a place where I don’t want to be,” he explained quietly. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning. “Jughead… you want me to trust you but you won’t tell me anything!” she shouted. 

“Because I don’t have to!” he yelled back. 

“Tell me something,” she said weakly. “I just… I just want to know something. I am exhausted, Jughead. It is… I am so tired trying to read you, trying to-to figure you out.”

“Then stop trying,” he mumbled, picking up his hat and standing up, moving towards the door. 

“No!” she screamed, grabbing his arm and turning him. “No, you _don’t_ get to walk away! This, this is the one time that walking away is not allowed. Tell me something about you-”

“No!” he yelled.

“Yes, Jughead! Yes!” she shouted back to him, tears brimming her eyes. “Yes, you will! Tell me something! Just give me one little thing-”

“I love you!” he roared. She squeaked and fell silent, watching him with wide eyes. “I am so fucking madly in love with you, I don’t know how to think straight! Everything you do makes my goddamn heart race! There you go! Now you know something about me, happy?” 

She let out a breath, flinching lightly when their room door slammed shut. She sunk down onto the couch, her hand over her heart that's pounding in her chest. “Oh my god,” she whispered shakily, a tear sliding down her cheek. 

~

“Sweetie, you have to calm down,” Alice said over the phone to Betty who continued to sob. “I don’t even know what’s wrong.” 

“He-He…” She sobbed again, her head dropping into her hand. 

Alice sighed, wishing she was able to comfort her daughter. “Betty, breathe. This isn’t healthy, you’re going to make yourself sick. You know how much you hate getting sick—everyone hates getting sick.” Betty took in shuddering breaths, pacing the length of the hotel room. “Don’t talk until you’re ready.” 

She nodded even though Alice couldn’t see her, continuing her breathing until it was steady instead of shaky. Once she was sure she was okay enough to talk, she wiped under her eyes and sniffled, sitting down on the couch. 

“Okay,” she sighed, sniffling. “We-We were arguing—about what is not-not something I want to talk about—but then he just… he said—well, shouted—that he loved me. And not like-like platonic, we’ve-been-best-friends-for-a-while I love you. It was a confessing I love you and-and then he stormed out. He just left and he doesn’t have a phone so-so I don’t know where he is. And we’re in Venice and it’s new and I know nothing about Venice,” she laughed, sniffling. “And now I don’t know what to do and I feel lost without him here.” 

Alice let out a deep breath and Betty sniffled, wiping her face. “Elizabeth, you’re my baby and I really wasn’t expecting to have to give you this talk because you are _very_ smart. But the most important thing that you can do right now—and the best thing for you and him—is just go with your gut, and heart, I guess.” 

“I don’t understand,” Betty whispered, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

“You have to decide how _you_ feel. He’s decided how he feels, but now it’s your turn,” she explained. “And don’t do what you think he wants you to do, you have to do what _you_ want. You’re allowed to take your time with this, Betty. This is a very big decision.” 

Betty groaned, covering her face with her hand as she spread out against the length of the couch. 

~

Jughead traced his thumb over his beer glass. It was full and on the verge of spilling. He hated the smell of a bar, he hated the look of a bar, he hated bars. He was only in one because he got tired of walking and it was either here or a shop with an Italian name that he couldn’t read. 

The bars here weren’t any cleaner than the bars back home, everything was just Italian and the guys were slightly more attractive though there were still a few who seemed to physically live there. They were the ones who were sweating and downing alcohol like they were Dracula in an unlocked blood bank. 

People were whopping and shouting, some drunkenly dancing to music on a small make-shift dance floor. Again, he was confused on what the hell anybody was saying and the music just added to his confusion. 

There were TV’s playing whatever sport was popular. Again, another language, he had no idea what was going on. 

He turned to look back at his drink with a sigh, cringing at it. Beer looked like piss and warm beer tasted like piss (well, what he believed piss tasted like because whoever drinks piss is revolting). How the hell do people willingly drink this shit? How the hell do people add drugs on top of it? He could ask the questions for days and would never get an answer he understood. 

“You look lost,” a guy said, his accent thick. 

Jughead furrowed his brows, looking over at him. He had dark hair, like his own, though it was brown and not black. His cheeks had a flush to them, like he had blush on but Jughead was sure it was from the heat. The bar was trying to roast them like a family would to a turkey on Thanksgiving day. He was tan, his skin a warm olive color, and he had freckles littering his face. His sleeves were rolled, exposing his arms. 

Jughead blinked at him, narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry?” he whispered. 

“Seat taken?” the guy asked and Jughead shook his head. He sat down, setting his own glass on the bartop and clearing his throat. “Andrea,” he said with a smirk, holding out his hand. 

Jughead chuckled, taking it and giving it a light shake. “Jughead.” Andrea furrowed his brows and Jughead winced. “Long story. Really long story.” 

“I’m just going to assume it’s a weird American thing,” he said and Jughead laughed. “Italy?”

Jughead sighed, nodding. “Just… a random tourist.” 

“You look young to be traveling by yourself,” Andrea observed and Jughead adjusted as he watched him skim his eyes over his body. 

“Uh,” he chuckled, clearing his throat and tugging on the back of his hat. “I’m-I’m 18. Um… I-I, uh, decided traveling was more important than school.” 

“Seeing the world,” Andrea murmured, his smirk lazy. “I see. Where are you going next?” 

“I, uh…” Jughead chuckled breathily, shrugging. “I haven’t decided yet.” 

“Let me help you decide then,” Andrea said, his voice low as he leaned forward and placed his hand on top of Jughead’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! There’s chapter 6! Thank you so, so, so much for 1000 hits. I can’t believe this story has gotten that many and I never in a million years expected it to. I’m so glad so many of you are enjoying this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> All of your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!! Have a good day/afternoon/night/etc.!
> 
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	7. Running Out of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 24th_

Betty placed her palms flat on the bathroom counter, looking herself in the eye with the help of the mirror. She inhaled deeply, huffing when a tear escaped her eye. 

“Jesus Christ,” she whispered, wiping it away quickly. 

She didn’t understand why she was crying. She couldn’t understand anything and it was so outrageous and such a cliché that even _she_ hated herself. She was crying over something stupid and little and something that could easily be solved with three words. 

She looked at herself again in the mirror, shaking her head. Her mascara was stained under her eyes, smearing down her cheeks. She was snotty and flushed and nasty—she looked horrible, horrific. Her hair was a mess and she needed a shower but couldn’t bring herself to start the shower. 

She looked over her shoulder, looking at the bath. A bath would be nice. It’d be warm and she could relax. And knowing Jughead, he wasn’t going to be back anytime soon. He liked to run, he liked to hide. 

“God,” she groaned, stepping towards the bath. “This is so overrated.” 

~

Jughead laughed, shaking his head. “This was…” He laughed again and Andrea laughed with a smirk. The same smirk he had on the whole night. The same goddamn smirk that was weaving itself into Jughead’s mind and embedding in his brain. The same smirk that was making him buzz. 

He swallowed thickly and Andrea narrowed his eyes. “What’re you looking at?” he asked and Jughead shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he answered quickly, sighing. “Nothing.” 

Andrea nodded and Jughead looked down at the ground. Andrea tilted his chin up and his eyes widened. This was new. He wasn’t one for soft touches. 

“You sure about that?” Andrea asked and Jughead inhaled sharply before his lips were on his. 

His lips were soft against his. His thumb and back of his pointer finger was holding his chin in place. Jughead allowed himself to sink into everything for just a moment. He allowed himself to forget about his brain tumor, about what he said to Betty, about Betty herself. 

He shoved him away quickly, clenching his hands into fists. “No,” he stated sternly, shaking his head. “Oh, god. No, no, no,” he said with his eyes clenched shut. 

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Andrea stammered. “I was sure-”

“No, I…” Jughead groaned, sighing. “It’s-It’s complicated but, um… I told… I am in love with someone and I just… I told them and then I left and I…” He sighed, chuckling. “You are very attractive. Very-Very attractive but… I really gotta go talk to her.”

“Her?” Andrea repeated and Jughead nodded. 

“Like I said: complicated.” Jughead shrugged, giving him a tight lipped smile and backing away. “I had fun! Thank you!” 

“Uh, good luck?!”

~

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Betty whispered to herself continuously. “Why the hell did you get choked up—there was no need to get choked up! He told you he loved you and you just stared at him like you were a doll! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

She groaned as she climbed out of the bath, pulling out the plug and watching it drain as she dripped all over the bathroom floor. She was freezing and her teeth were on the verge of chattering, but she didn’t feel like grabbing her towel off of the counter. 

She sunk down to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. She sniffled, tears starting to brim her eyes like they had earlier. She moved so she was against the bath, swallowing thickly. 

“He loves me,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she stared ahead. “He said he loved me. Jughead loves me, he actually, really, seriously loves me. Or he has a giant fucking brain tumor and he’s going nuts. That happens all the time—it happens on TV all the time, so it has to happen in real life all the time. He doesn’t love me, why the hell would Jughead love _me_? I’m annoying, I’m overbearing, I can’t keep my mouth closed to save someone’s life!” 

She whined, dropping her head into her hands. “He doesn’t love me,” she whispered. “He can’t love me, he can’t. Jughead doesn’t love anybody…” She rested her chin back on her knees, chewing her lip. “Jughead doesn’t love anybody, he’s just-he’s just… just mean. He doesn’t love, he doesn’t. Why does he love me? I-I… why me? Out of everyone else in the whole world, he chooses me?” 

She scoffed, shaking her head. She pushed her hands into her hair, laughing. “He loves me. He actually loves me. Oh, my god. I’m upset because he loves me—because he shouldn’t love me! He’s crazy, that's the _only_ reason he loves me. He’s nuts!” 

She shrugged, standing up off the floor and wrapping her towel around her body. She laughed as she dried her face. “He’s insane, that’s-that’s the only reason,” she whispered. “He loves me…” 

They were the only words she could muster for long moments. He confessed his love to her. It could have been fake, could have been completely real. It seemed very real by the way he said it and he seemed to harvest a lot of emotion. He always seemed to harvest a lot of emotion. He was moody, broody Jughead. 

But what if it was all a joke? What if it was a trick question type thing? He gets mad at her for something he’s done. 

She groaned, laying down on the bed. She needed to stop thinking about totally inaccurate scenarios. If she didn’t stop, she would never get anywhere in any relationship ever. 

_How do you feel?_ she asked herself. How _did_ she feel?

He was attractive, anyone who saw him knew that and his smile could end her. She was surprised it hadn’t. 

He was kind when he wanted to be, and despite everything, he really did care. He liked being hard and misleading, but he really wasn’t. He just tended to worry about himself first (or tried to), though he wasn’t narcissistic. 

When he touched her, it was gentle and careful. He didn’t mean to do any harm and she doesn’t think he would ever attempt to do harm. His lips were soft and just as careful as his hands. 

Jughead was perfect—despite the anger issues. He was learning to handle it and she wanted to help him get through it. 

The idea of them together was one of conflict. They had tried that before, they had tried being together and it hadn’t worked out. But maybe they were forcing it then, now it could just be easy. He had confessed his true feelings, now it was her turn to do the same. 

But what were her true feelings?

She knew she found him attractive, but did she like him? Did she like-like him? Did she love him too?

His company was nice and being friends with him again made things easier. She would pay to watch him chuckle and grin all day if she could. His laugh was her favorite sound and every time he made it, she found herself wanting to hear more. 

His eyes were blue—like a Wattpad fanfiction blue—and she catches herself more than she’d like to admit staring into them. She could get lost, they were like the sea (as dramatic as that was). And when he was sleeping, his breathing would go even and steady and he always looked peaceful. 

When he woke up, his bed head was horrible. It stuck out every which way and it was fluffier than a tiny dog. His groggy grin and tired chuckle warmed her to the core and made her swoon. 

She would do anything to kiss him again at this point. She missed the feeling, the sparks. When his lips met hers, there was that electrical feeling they describe in books and movies, the ones that you’re certain is fake until you feel it yourself. 

She wanted to protect him from everything. The world, pain, heartbreak, everything. She wasn’t the strongest person herself, but she would damn well try if it was in order to help him. 

_I love him_ , she thought, and a tear slipped from her eye. _I love him. I love Jughead. We love each other—how can we love each other? He’s not supposed to love me. Jughead’s supposed to love someone who’s hot, attractive. Not a bitchy, whiny pushover. But I love him and if he truly loves me, he wouldn’t care, would he?_

She sighed and got up, turning off the lights. She wiped her face as she walked back to the bed. She got under the blankets, picking up Jughead’s pillow and squeezing it to her chest with a cry. She loved him and that’s the scariest thing she’ll ever have to admit.

~

Jughead stilled in front of their hotel room, taking in deep breaths. He stunk and the smell of alcohol clung to him like a child to their favorite blanket. He hadn’t even drunk a drop, yet here he was. He smelt like a distillery. 

He couldn’t talk to her, not when he smelt like this. She wouldn’t believe a single word he was saying. He needed a shower, but if he took one, he would wake her up and he wasn’t going to do that to her. Not after the night they had.

He huffed and groaned, pushing off of the wall and turning. “Jesus, fuck, I need clothes. Goddamnit,” he cursed under his breath, wiping a hand over his face. “Screw it.”

He unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly. His head was pounding, his medicine having worn off, but he was distracted. He needed to talk to Betty, he needed to take a shower, he needed to take an Advil. 

He found his pills on the coffee table, taking one quickly before he set the back down and pulled off his shirt. He bent over to pick his hat up off the ground, kicking off his shoes a second later. He stepped into the bedroom, freezing when Betty was sniffling on the bed.

He cleared his throat, sighing. “Are-Are you okay?” he asked softly. “I would normally come and lay with you but, uh, I-I stink. Alcohol, not-not B.O.…” he added quickly. She didn’t say anything, only held the pillow closer to her chest. “Um, I’m gonna… give you some more time,” he sighed. “I’ll be out in, like, 20 minutes.” 

He waited a moment before he moved into the bathroom, cautiously closing the door behind himself. He dropped his clothes into a heap on the floor, stepping towards the shower. Just out the window, lightning cracked and thunder rolled before a down pouring of rain started to shed down from the sky. 

_Ironic_ , Jughead thought with a roll of his eyes. 

Of course it rains the night he confesses that he loves her. He didn’t mean to tell her he loved her, it just slipped. That happens… in movies. Jesus Christ, is his life becoming some coming-of-age, the-main-character-dies-in-the-end, movie? If it was, ew.

He winced when he stuck his hand under the water, realizing it was way too hot. With a few adjustments, it became bearable and he stepped in. You could hear the rain over the shower and he wondered if Andrea was dry. 

Andrea. 

He groaned, squeezing his eyes closed. 

_Dumbass_ , he told himself. _You tell someone you love them, then you go kiss some random hot guy in a bar. Smart._

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered, squeezing shampoo into his hands. “You left before she could even give you an answer and because you don’t have an answer, that gives you the right to kiss a random guy? A hot random guy but still! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!” 

He huffed, washing his hair and staring at the wall. “Idiot,” he whispered, sighing. “Total fucking idiot.” 

He finished his shower, still muttering to himself as he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He sighed deeply, pulling open the door and stepping into the room. 

He crossed his arms over his chest when Betty was still in the same spot, still sniffling. “Betty,” he sighed. “Are you gonna… gonna move? Gonna-gonna… breathe?” She let out a deep breath and he nodded. “It’s something.”

He pulled on boxers and wiped the towel through his hair until it stopped dipping. He hung it over the door, Betty giving him a glare. “Okay fine,” he mumbled, walking into the bathroom and draping it over a towel bar. 

He walked back into the room, pulling the blankets back on the bed. “Am I allowed to ask for my pillow back?” he muttered. She gave him a look and he sighed. “I’m guessing that’s a no.” He laid down, tucking his hand under the pillow he had and looking into her eyes. 

They were bloodstained and confused, worry plastered behind them. Tears filled them and she swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes closed when he reached his hand up to cup her cheek. 

“We can forget I said anything,” he whispered and she shook her head. “No?” 

“Mnh-mnh,” she whimpered, her eyes slowly opening. He brushed away a tear that fell with his thumb, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to forget what you said,” she cried. “It’s all I can think about and I keep going back and forth trying to figure out what the hell it means when the meaning is right there, but I-I… I don’t believe it.” 

“Does it have to do with the fact that you don’t trust me?” he asked softly. 

She sniffled, nodding. “I just…” She sighed, reaching up to hold his wrist. “You don’t love, you’re-you’re mean and you’re-you’re stubborn and you only care when it benefits you. You’re not a lover you’re a… you’re a benefiter.” He furrowed his brows, wincing. “Stop it, I’m talking.” 

“How am I a… benefiter?” he questioned and she shrugged. 

“I don’t know!” she cried and he nodded. “All I know is that you, Jughead Jones, do not love. You don’t love, you-you… you don’t love. You can’t love me. I’m-I’m-I’m… I’m annoying, I’m overbearing, I’m-I’m… I’m me and you’re you. And-and… I’m not-I’m not-I’m not enough for you, I’m not what you… I’m not enough,” she breathed, her chin trembling.

“Betty,” 

“No,” she whimpered, tears falling from her eyes. “Don’t say my name like that. When people say my name like that, it’s never good.” 

“Betty,” he said more sternly, but keeping his voice a hushed whisper. “I meant what I said. I… I didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to ever say it. I wanted to keep it to myself because you and I as a couple… we tried it, and it was weird. But I was upset and you were making it worse and it just came out.” 

She frowned and he breathed deeply, pulling his hand off of her cheek and resting it on the bed. “You piss me off all the time,” he started and she huffed, wiping her face. “And I’m beginning to think you like it. But every time you yell at me, I find myself loving you even more as, um… as insane as that sounds. But I do love you and I do realize that… I really don’t seem to act like I am capable of loving someone. I-I didn’t think I was able to until you… until you decided to just strut back into my life.” 

She moved closer to him, running her eyes over her face. “You really love me?” 

He sighed, uttering incoherently under his breath. “There’s… you are not perfect,” he mumbled and she looked away from his face. “You _are_ annoying and you act like a 40-year-old soccer mom sometimes. Like I said, you make me mad all the time. I have a very short temper and you screw with it a lot. Not intentionally, but you still do it. And you get on my ass about my medication and I just got it.” 

“You’re a pain,” he continued. “But everything that I don’t like about you… I’m… I love _you_ enough to-to… love them.” 

“You love me,” she whispered, her tone of voice unconvincing. “You really love me.” 

“Do I gotta scream it out for all of Italy to hear for you to know I love you?” he asked and she furrowed her brows. 

“You wouldn’t do that,” she whispered, swallowing thickly. 

He smirked, nodding. “I would,” he mumbled, sitting up. “And I will.” 

“Jug,” she breathed, watching him get out of bed. “What are you doing?” she giggled. 

“I’m telling Venice, Italy who I love,” he stated, opening their balcony doors. She watched him, her lip drawn between her teeth. “I love you and if you need me to scream it out for you to believe it…” He shrugged, turning to face the streets. “I, Jughead Jones, love Betty Cooper! I love Betty Cooper!” he shouted as loud as he could and she laughed, covering her face with her hands. 

She heard the doors shut and she felt the bed beside her sink. She moved her hands away, sighing. “I love you too,” she whispered and he grinned. “I really, really love you.” 

He ran his eyes over her face, taking in a deep breath. “I wanna kiss you but… I kissed someone else tonight, too,” he confessed and her face fell to a frown. “Not on purpose, not because I wanted to, not because I thought it was a good idea. He was there, we talked, we hung out. He was… yeah.” 

She felt like he was ripping her heart from her chest and she let out a breath. Her chin trembled and she looked down at the bed, not wanting to look in his eyes any longer. 

“He kissed me,” he whispered and she squeezed her eyes closed. “He kissed me and I-I… I wanted to kiss back, but I didn’t because he-he wasn’t you. He was…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “He was good looking and… if I… if I didn’t love you how much I loved you, I wouldn’t have shoved him away, I wouldn't have ran away. I would have let him take me to wherever he was going to take me and I would have let him do whatever he wanted to do to me.” 

“I really don’t want to hear about how you want to have sex with somebody,” she whispered, drying her cheek as she laid down. 

“I don’t want to have sex with him. I don’t want to have sex with anyone, not right now. What I am trying to say and what I can’t fucking say for some reason…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The whole time I was with him, I-I wanted you to be there, I wanted to… I wanted you to… I wanted you there.” 

He let out a deep breath, lying down. “I wanted, um, I just wanted to come back and see you because even though he was… I just wanted you. It felt wrong being with him, I felt like I was cheating and we’re not even together. I am… I hate commitment, I hate the thought of settling down, of being with-with one person for the rest of my life because it never works out, not for-not for Jones’s.” 

He chewed his lip for a moment, watching the back of her head. “But I love you,” he breathed. “And when we kissed, it felt right. There was that-that fictional spark that you only read about. With him it was just… it was just sexual attraction. And I knew that’s all it was, I don’t-I don’t date guys. That’s-That’s irrelevant, um… I-I can’t do this,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes closed.

“You’re rambling,” she mumbled, rolling over to face him. “I ramble when I’m nervous… I’ve never seen you ramble.” 

“I couldn’t not tell you about him. I gotta stop calling him him. Hi-His name is Andrea.” He huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. “I couldn’t not tell you because I feel guilty, I feel like I did something horrible and I-I kinda think I did. He didn’t change how I feel about you, he-he somehow just made it more intense. I kinda just thought I needed… you know, but-but I love you and-and no ones going to make that go away.” 

“He didn’t change the fact?” she asked and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“I don’t… I’ve never been interested in dating a guy, let alone falling in love with one. I’ve never been interested in dating anyone or-or falling in love with anyone for that matter,” he murmured. “People have really always just been sex—as horrible as that sounds. But… I love you and I don’t… and I’m not going to let a hot Italian guy screw that up.” 

“He was hot?” she questioned. 

Jughead nodded, letting out a breath. “He was hot, I can’t pretend that he wasn’t.” 

She gave him a questioning look, uttering, “You’re choosing me over a hot guy?” 

“I will choose you over a-a thousand, trillion, billion, gajillion hot guys,” he stated and she giggled. 

“I feel special,” she whispered and he smirked. “Thank you for telling me. Even though we weren’t anything when it happened, thank you for telling me.” 

“I ran three miles to get here,” he said with a shake of his head and she gave him a questioning look. “I never know where I go when I just wander, but I had no idea I was three miles away.” 

She laughed, taking space away from the gap between them. “I want to kiss you,” she said, her voice low and hushed. 

“Then kiss me,” he breathed. “What’s stopping you?” She cupped his cheeks, brushing her lips over his. He brushed hair behind her ear, looking into her eyes. “I love you, I really do.” 

“I love you too,” she whispered with a smile, pressing her lips to his. 

The kiss was slow and gentle, just above hesitant. They pulled apart to suck in a quick breath, though they wasted no time before they were kissing again. He rolled them so she was on top of him and squeezed the back of her neck, holding her mouth to his. 

They shared each other's breath for long moments, one gasping while the other forced their lips back onto their own, not ready to part with them yet. She whimpered when he bit her bottom lip and she rested her forehead on his, panting. 

“Do you want to wait?” he asked, breathless. “We can wait, love.” 

“I think we should,” she panted, sighing. “We should. We should-We should wait, make our first time more special, right?” 

He chuckled, smirking. “Sure,” he agreed and she rolled her eyes.

“Can we kiss a little longer?” she asked sheepishly. 

He scrunched up his face, shrugging. “I guess I could spare a few minutes.” She giggled, kissing him quickly. “You know, I think I should grow out my hair.” 

“No,” she laughed, rolling off of him and to his side. 

“Why not? I think it’d be cool,” he joked. 

She shook her head, cringing. “You’d look like a young Professor Snape.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s just cruel.” She laughed, kissing him again. “You can keep doing that,” he whispered and she smirked, brushing her lips over his but pulling back when he attempted to kiss her. “You are already deciding to be a bratty tease, huh?” She kissed the tip of his nose, rolling so her back was against his front. 

“Can we not get weird this time?” she asked softly and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, lets not,” he whispered and she giggled.

He seemed tentative to touch her and she could tell. She could feel his nerves. “Jug,” she breathed softly. “This won’t work if you act like a scared puppy all the time.” 

“Well, I just figured-”

“Jughead, must I bring up what we-” He wrapped his arm around her quickly and she fit into him like a puzzle piece. “I’m not going to shatter, I’m not going to freak out. You can touch me.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Betty.” She elbowed him lightly and he grunted, laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, you better be,” she giggled and he chuckled, placing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I told my mom that you love me,” she blurted, wincing. 

“We didn’t even make it a few hours?” he mumbled in disappointment. 

“I-I didn’t know what to do!” she exclaimed, huffing and dropping her hand on top of his. “You told me you loved me, you ran, I cried.” 

“That’s why you cried?” he questioned. 

“I was confused,” she whined, rolling to face him. “Put yourself in my shoes. We argue, I shout that I love you, I run away and don’t come back until later. What would you do?” 

He blinked at her, shrugging. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Stare.” 

She frowned, sighing. “If you were in the service, your name would be Major Pain.” 

“There’s a movie called _Major Payne_ ,” he grinned. “I thought it was pretty good. Maybe you co-” She smacked the back of his head and he inhaled, rubbing the spot. “Ow! God, what was that for?” 

“Take me seriously!” she shouted and he started to laugh, throwing his head back. “I’m serious,” she giggled, shoving his shoulder. “You’re so mean,” she pouted, dropping her head to his chest as he continued to laugh. 

He cupped her face, attempting to kiss her but failing miserably and making the two of them burst into laughter. “I’m sorry but you whining is adorable,” he said breathlessly and she groaned, dropping her forehead on his. 

_November 25th_

Betty placed a kiss on each of Jughead’s cheeks, her eyes widening when her lips met his. She pulled back quickly, her brows furrowed. “You’re awake,” she stated, her voice questioning. He smirked, barely opening one eye. “Morning,” she breathed, her cheeks red. 

“Hi,” he mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes. “Why were you kissing my face?” he questioned, resting his forearm on his forehead. 

She shrugged sheepishly, laying down. “I just… felt like it.” He smirked, nodding. She hid her face in his neck and he chuckled. “We woke up earlier today,” she whispered, moving her head back to look at him. “It’s, like, 9.” 

“Wow,” he whispered and she laughed. “Look at us.” 

She rolled on top of him and he tucked an arm under his head, the other resting on her thigh. “What are you thinking about doing today?” she asked, kissing him quickly before she folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them. 

“We could stay here all day,” he whispered, running his hand up her leg. 

She grasped it, placing it on her back. “No,” she droned. “Not happening. I wanna wait,” she mumbled, kissing his chin. “Just a little longer. We just confessed our secret blossoming love for one another, we can wait for sex.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Such a man. Only thinking about sex. That’s all that’s ever on your brain.” 

“That is not all that’s ever on my brain,” he chuckled and she giggled. “I have lots of other things on my mind.” 

“Mm,” she hummed, kissing him quickly again. “Sure.” She giggled when he laughed, cupping his face and giving him a hard kiss. “Okay, I need to brush my teeth and get dressed and then we’re going to breakfast.” 

She got out of bed and he raised a brow. “Since when do you wear my clothes?” he asked, giving her a questioning look. 

“You said you loved me then ran away,” she said from the doorway of the bathroom. “I had to make it kinda seem like you were here.” 

“Oh, you’ll never let me forget that,” he groaned. 

“I’m your girlfriend now,” she called from the bathroom and he felt a grin crack his face. “I have to nag you about dumb decisions you make.” 

“Oh,” he laughed, getting out of bed. “I see how it is,” he said as he walked into the bathroom. She gave him a smile from behind her toothbrush and he kissed the top of her head. 

She spit into the sink, wiping the corner of her mouth. “You’re very lovey. Is that the secret side of Jughead?” He winked and she laughed. “I think the you that cares and likes kisses and cuddles is much cuter than the hard, mean, hulk you.” He furrowed his brows and she scrunched her nose. “Don’t ask.” 

~

“You’re wearing a shirt with your name on it,” Jughead pointed out, taking the last pill in his hand. “Is that for me or you?” 

She huffed and he grinned. “A bully! If you weren’t so isolated, you would have been a bully!” she exclaimed, picking up her bag. “Bully, bully, bully. I fell in love with a high school bully.”

“Stop whining,” he said from behind her, closing their room door. “And you say I’m the one who complains.” 

“I am not complaining,” she muttered. “I am stating a simple fact.” 

“I’m stating a simple fact,” he mocked and she smacked the back of his head. “Good, god,” he whispered, rubbing the spot. “Where the hell did you learn to smack that hard?” 

“I had a big brother,” she said simply, giving the waiter a smile. “Ooh, when I was crying, I found a candy store down the street—not because I was walking, because I started searching-and I really wanna go. Can we go?” 

“To get candy?” he questioned and she nodded enthusiastically. “You fell in love with a bully, _I_ fell in love with a child.” She huffed, glaring at him over her menu. “But I love you and I don’t care. If you wanna go bask in sugar for a little while, go ahead.” 

“Hey,” she whispered. “You’re coming with me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, sighing. “I think I’m actually going to eat breakfast.” 

“Oh my god, really?” she asked excitedly, forgetting about convincing him to go to the candy shop with him. “That’s-That’s great! Why haven’t you been eating anyway?” 

“Um…” He shrugged, clearing his throat and rubbing his thighs. “I just don’t really have an appetite anymore, I guess.” 

“Well, you’re eating now so that’s what matters,” she giggled, sighing as she pushed her hands between her thighs. “I don’t really know what to talk about. We’re around each other so often, there really isn’t anything you don’t know about or-or I don’t know about…” She raised a brow and he shook his head. 

“I have things that I don’t want to talk about and nothing that you say or do will get me to tell you until I’m ready,” he explained with a pointed look and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you this, it’s not another really, really random marriage proposal.” 

She laughed and he grinned, his headache subsiding just from the small blip of noise. “That _was_ really random,” she responded and he chuckled. “And I think I would beat you if you asked me again. I’m 17, I can’t even get a hotel room in my name, I really don’t wanna get married. And it’s not you, I love you, but… well, like I said, we’re young and that’d be pretty stupid on both of our parts.” 

“It was my idea,” he mumbled. “I think I’m more stupid than you.” She huffed, a waiter stepping over to them.

~

Betty cupped Jughead’s face and he blinked, shaking his head lightly. “Are you here?” she asked, a small smile on her face. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, fixing the back of his hat. “S-Sorry. I just, uh, I kinda zoned out.” 

“Did you take your meds?” she asked under her breath, pulling him aside from other people outside the door. “You-You… when you had your seizure, you did this—stared at-at, like, nothing.” 

“I took my meds, I swear,” he assured, taking her wrists and lowering her hands off of his face. “I took every single one no matter how much I didn’t want to. I just… I stared, checked out for a minute. I’m fine.” 

“You promise?” she questioned, her eyes running over his face. 

He smiled, nodding. “I promise,” he whispered, placing a quick peck to her forehead. “Go buy your candy, I’m gonna wait out here.” 

She furrowed her brows, giving him a confused look. “Why?” 

“You can show me what you got,” he said with a shrug. “Girls like doing that and I think it’d be pretty pointless for you to show me things that I already know about.” She frowned and he chuckled. “Go, take your time. I don’t mind waiting.” 

She sighed, kissing his cheek. “I’ll be back.” 

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt his pocket, pulling out her phone. He opened it as he glanced inside the shop, stepping around the building to hide what he was doing.

A wave of nausea washed over him and he wasn’t sure if that was the tumor's fault or the fact that he was secretly using Betty’s phone. It was probably both, or maybe it was breakfast or maybe it was the fact that he could feel it climbing up his throat. 

He hurried to the other side of the building, hanging over the railing and vomiting into the water. He coughed and sputtered, heaving for a minute. He coughed again, spitting and wiping his mouth. He groaned, resting his elbows on the railing and leaning forward. Maybe he didn’t take all of his meds after all. 

Once he felt he was okay enough to move, he sighed, looking back at Betty’s phone. He typed as he walked, sniffling. He made a note in his head of the name of the place, clearing Betty’s search history before pocketing the phone. 

“Okay,” Betty sighed and he came out from around the corner. “Hi.” She reached up to kiss him and he backed away. “Okay, we shouldn’t do this already.” 

“No, no. It has nothing to do with you,” he said quickly. “I just, um…” He sighed, clearing his throat. “I forgot to take my nausea and vomiting medication and I, uh…” 

“You threw up,” she finished, cringing. “Why do you take so many meds?” 

“I-I… I don’t know, I just take what they give me,” he muttered, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Can-Can we go?” 

“You’re okay?” she asked, brushing hair off of his forehead. He breathed deeply, nodding. “Okay. Why didn’t you take your meds?”

“I-I just forget them, that’s all.” He nodded, giving her a tiny smile. “I, um, really want to go now.” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, adjusting her dress. “Let-Let’s go.” 

~

“What are you doing?” Betty asked, following Jughead around the room with her eyes. He was digging around in his carry on, throwing books out. “Jug-” 

“I’m-I’m-I’m—I have things I need to go do, okay?” he exclaimed and she took in a deep breath. “You don’t have to worry about me all the goddamn time. I am an adult, I can take care of my fucking self.” 

“You didn’t take your meds,” she uttered under her breath and he turned to face her. 

“What if I didn’t?” he questioned and she let her eyes fall closed. “I don’t want to take the goddamn things! You want to? Go right ahead. Take 8 medications a day, it’s really fucking fun.” He put the bag on, huffing. “Jesus Christ, worry about your fucking self.” 

She flinched when the door slammed closed, slowly opening her eyes. She let out a deep breath, wiping her cheek quickly. 

_No reason to cry_ , she said to herself, getting off of the bed. _He loves you, he doesn’t mean it._

She picked her bag up off of the chair in their room, slipping into her shoes that were by the door. She sighed deeply, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the hall. 

Part of her wanted to knock on all their ‘neighbors’ doors and apologize for how loud they were and how often doors were slammed. Part of her also wished that it was because of sexual reasons and not because Jughead had really odd anger issues and refused to take his medication in order to control it. 

She walked out into the street, shivering and wishing she brought a jacket. Did she even have a jacket? 

She shook her head and brushed off the thought, walking down the street quickly to keep some kind of body heat. She wondered where Jughead was and wondered if she’d run into him or see him. Would it be weird? Would he still be mad? Why was he mad? 

She never knew anything about him anymore. Just a few weeks ago, he was easy to understand, easy to read. Now he’s like trying to read a book in a new language you’ve never even heard of. He has high and lows—major ones—and his moods change with the hour. You’ll never know how he acts or feels because he doesn’t talk. He likes the mystery. 

Then there’s the ever impending thought that he’s hiding something. And it’s not just something, it’s something big, something that would hurt someone. Since he doesn’t talk, nothing ever slips out, nothing ever even get’s muttered.

He could be hiding something severe, could be cancer, and she would never know until he’s on his death bed because he’s stubborn. 

He could secretly be a killer, it’d explain why he hops around from place to place, country to country. He’s trying not to get caught. She doesn’t want to call him smart, but he was… when he wanted to be. 

She let out a breath and pulled open the door to the convenience store. She was grateful for the warmth and gave the woman a nice smile when she greeted her. 

The aisles were full of different foods and fruits and all other things she didn’t know the name of. She picked up a basket just in case because she tended to go a little overboard when it came to shopping. She only needed a few things for herself, but she was mostly there to get things for Jughead.

She had a plan—a good plan (she hopes). She was going to buy a few things, sit him down on the living room floor and spread those things out between them. She was going to explain how she felt and explain what she wanted him to do and how she believed he could do better. 

Totally a good plan. 

~

Jughead chewed his cheek as he looked down at the phone in his hand. He couldn’t sneak Betty’s phone again, it was rude and an invasion of privacy. So he bought his own, despite how much he didn’t care for it. 

It cost him a good chunk of money which he knew would all go to waste because you can’t bring a phone with you when you die. They don’t use them wherever the hell you go. He never even used it when he was alive besides for music, and talking to Betty, but that was towards the end. 

He dropped it into his bag, fixing it on his back as he continued to walk back towards the hotel. He yelled at her—again. He was happy this morning, perfectly fine. Then all of a sudden he’s going nuts and yelling at her while he frantically digs in a bag he hasn’t touched in days. 

Maybe he should have gone with the treatment, maybe he should have tried. Should have suffered through the chemo and the radiation and the poking and the proding. Maybe he should have waited to do this. 

He could have gotten a few more years if he was lucky. Yeah, he would have suffered, he would have been sick and most of his days would have been so shitty, he would wish he was dead. But he would have more time with Betty, more time to make things write, more time to learn how to take control over himself. He would have _time_. 

So was he stupid? Was he stupid for saying no? Was he stupid for avoiding everything? Should he tell her? 

He has to tell her, he knows that. The longer he waits, the harder the blow will be to her. The angrier she’ll be. The more it’ll hurt. 

She’s Betty. All she wants to do is help, it’s her single utmost joy in life. And then revealing to her that he's been hiding a tumor—a tumor that makes him act like a feral bastard—would eat her alive. 

He didn’t want to tell her, he never really planned on it but he was going to die—and he was going to die sooner than he'd expect. He could die tomorrow, or he could go downhill tomorrow. He really should tell her. 

He sighed, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. He groaned, opening his eyes and squinting through the blurriness and burning. 

He winced, sitting down and leaning against the building beside him. “Jesus, fuck.” His head started to pound and the cars driving on the street were making his ears feel like they were going to explode. The light from the streetlights was seeping through his hands and were still burning his eyes. 

“Stop,” he whimpered, tears stinging his eyes. “Make it stop, make it stop.” He sobbed, the pain becoming too much for him to hide. “Make it stop! It burns! Ah!” He brought his knees up to his chest, gulping for air as he cried. 

He looked like a child who had lost his mother. People gave him odd looks as they passed him on the street, but he couldn’t move, not until the wave (more like a tsunami) that came over him went away. The pain was becoming too much, he couldn’t handle it, not this time. 

And he didn’t always have to be strong. The doctors told him that when he was 15 and was supposed to die from the stupid medulloblastoma that decided to form in his brain. He had bad luck with that organ. 

They would constantly tell him it was okay to cry, especially on hard days. He had one nurse that told him it the most. She was his favorite nurse and it wasn’t because she was pretty (though she was), it was because she cared. She cared about him and she was there for everything. She was everything his dad and mom weren’t. 

He couldn’t really blame his mom, she wasn’t there. But his dad was just a disgusting asshole. He was as bad as Jughead was now but if he was drunk 24/7.

But Nurse Davis (that was what he was _supposed_ to call her, but she always had him call her by her first name—Rose) played the parent when Jughead needed one. 

He had met her first when he had just come out of his first biopsy. She had helped him get all of the machines back on him and took his vitals. He hadn’t seen her again until a few days later when she had taken his vitals again. Then really after that, she became the only nurse he saw. Maybe it was because she was the only one he would listen to. 

After his first few rounds of chemo, he got bad. He was sick all the time, weak, frail, never leaving his bed and all he wanted was someone there. She had come in and sat with him whenever she could, trying to get him to eat, drink, smile, laugh—all of that. She would know what to do in this situation.

He was sure Betty would, too. Well, he was certain she would know. She would have some ice pack or heating pad trick. Or she’d cast some magic witch spell on him. Not that he thinks she’s a witch, sometimes she’s just a little too good to be true so calling her a witch just makes more sense. 

He let out a deep breath, sniffling as he dropped his head back against the wall. He groaned, wiping his face and running his fingers through his hair. 

The pain had subsided. It was dull now, but the cars were still just a little too loud and the street lights were still just slightly too bright—only enough to be annoying. The blurriness of his vision was gone as well. He was grateful it was still only coming in spurts. 

He pushed himself up off of the ground, adjusting his bag and starting off down the street. He felt as if he was going to be the laughing stalk of all these peoples office Christmas parties. Do they have office Christmas parties in Italy? 

When he got to the hotel, he froze. He froze and stared at the doors and the windows and the concrete or whatever the hell the building was made out of. He wasn’t an architect, he wouldn’t know. 

He let out a deep breath, chewing his cheek. “Go inside,” he whispered under his breath. “Apologize, shower, go to bed. Run away, get a separate hotel room, waste more money, shower, go to bed. They both end the same.” He shrugged, stepping aside when a group of people walked out of the hotel. 

He probably looked mad. Standing in the middle of the street staring at a building in the freezing cold. _Definitely_ looked mad. 

“Apologize, shower, go to bed,” he uttered under his breath as he walked inside. He rode the elevator to their floor, stopping in front of their door. 

Was she there? She had to be, Betty doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. But it’s not really the middle of the night, it’s only 7:30 at the latest. But still. Betty’s cautious, smart. She doesn’t wander around a place she doesn’t know. 

He unlocked the door, freezing again. His brakes need grease because this act is getting old. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, carefully closing the door behind himself. “Look, I may be into women and men but orgys are totally not my thing. If they’re yours: cool, good for you, take it how you like it. But I’m gonna have to pass-” 

“Oh, would you shut up?” she huffed, her face flushed. “God, you are so dramatic.” 

“I’m not summoning a demon either, I-I can’t have that bad luck swallowing me-” 

“Would you just come sit down?” she exclaimed from the floor, cutting him off. He sighed, dropping his bag on the couch and coming to sit across from her. 

He looked down at the things she had spread out between them, then back up to her. “What is all of this?” he asked. 

She inhaled deeply, picking up one of the notebooks. “This,” she stated, holding it out to him until he took it. “This is what you’re going to start writing in because I’m tired of you keeping everything inside of you. I-I don’t want to read it, I really don’t care. I’ll care if you tell me, but I don’t want to read it. And-And you don’t even have to, uh, write about feelings and stuff, I just want you to… write something. It’ll help get your mind off of things and-and… maybe you won’t get so mad.” 

He glanced at it, nodding. “So that’s what all these, uh, pencils and pens and-and markers are for—oh, and you can’t forget the pencil case,” he said with a forced grin as he picked up the said item.

“Stop,” she huffed, reaching and pulling it from his hands. “And yes. Jug, just… you need something, you know? You-You don’t have something.” 

“You don’t have something-”

She muttered, waving her hand to cut him off. “This isn’t about me,” she stated, sighing. “I am tired of getting yelled at all the time and-and I love you, I really do but you make it hard. Really, really hard. So, now, you also have this.” She held out the pill organizer and he narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Yes, I know you’re not 90, but you’re going to start taking all of your meds because I am going to organize them all for you. I’ll know if you don’t take them,” she said with a pointed look. 

“That sounded like a threat,” he mumbled and she nodded. 

“Because it was… it-it wasn’t. But if it makes you take them, it was!” she exclaimed, huffing. She started to chew her lip, looking down at her hands. “I don’t like what you said.” 

“I know,” he muttered, clenching his jaw. “I’m-I’m sorry. I, um… the world kicked my ass,” he laughed and she furrowed her brows, giving him a weird look. “I-I got a really-really bad headache when I was… when I was walking back. It was-It was bad, but, um, I’m okay now. I got over it, I-I-I muscled through it.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean, but… good for the world. Maybe it’ll… teach you a lesson,” she mumbled and he chuckled. 

“I really am sorry, and I’m sure you’re tired of hearing that but I have no idea how else to apologize. I’m-I’m trying, but… when-when I get mad, I can’t always control it.” She nodded along and he inhaled sharply. “And I-I don’t even know where it came from, I don’t even know what I was upset about, truthfully. It-It wasn’t you, I don’t why I came at you like that.”

“I would ask you to promise that you’ll never do that again,” she whispered, sighing. “But I know you’ll do it again and I know you don’t mean it, so I don’t blame you. I just… I just want good days. I want _happy_ days. I want days without-without screaming, fighting, arguing. I just want one— _one_ good day. That’s it,” she whispered, letting out a breath. “Can you give me one good day? Please, Jug.”

He looked down at his hands, his jaw clenched and his eyes soft. She stood up off of the ground, moving around everything to kneel next to him. She fixed the skirt of her dress around her knees, cupping his face and brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. 

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” she started softly, dropping her hands to hold his. “And-and I know they don’t… they don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving here, but it’s still Thanksgiving. I just… give me tomorrow, please. Take your meds, do what you have to do, but I want tomorrow. And-And I want Christmas. Two days, that’s all I’m asking for. Two good days and they’re not even close together, they’re-they’re a month apart.” 

“I can try and-and-and I will, I will try. For-For you,” he added in a hushed whisper. “I’ll try, Betty, I swear. I mean, I can’t give you a feast and-and pie and all that shit, but I can take my meds and I can-I can try.” 

“I don’t need the feast, or the pie, and the other things,” she said huskily, cupping his cheek. “I just want you to be happy and not yelling at me. And taking your meds.” 

He chuckled, kissing her quickly. “We could shower together to save water,” he mumbled against her lips and she laughed. 

“Nice try, Jones,” she giggled, kissing him quickly again. “The closest you’re going to get to my naked body is in bed and even then, I’m not going to be naked because we are going to wait. Waiting is good, waiting is healthy, waiting is fun.” 

“Waiting is not fun,” he interrupted. 

“Yes, yes,” she teased, grinning. “God gave you hands for a reason.” 

“God didn’t give me anything because…” He winced and she nodded. 

“You really don’t believe in God?” she questioned and he shook his head. “You really don’t think he has a plan for you?” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. “I believe I have a plan for me, and-and science. That’s what I believe. I believe in science, you believe in God. That’s fine. It doesn’t make me feel any different about you.” 

“Okay, then. I get it, it makes sense,” she said with a nod, giving him a tiny smile. “Go take your shower,” she huffed, standing up and fixing her dress. 

“There’s room for two,” he said with a smirk. 

“Hands,” she said with a smile over her shoulder. “They work wonders.” 

He groaned, dropping his head against the floor. “That just made it worse!” She giggled from their room and he huffed. “You will be the death me.” 

~

Betty laughed, sighing when Jughead pulled back from their kiss. “Your brain must just play sex scenes all day,” she commented and he rolled his eyes, falling down beside her. “What?” she laughed. 

“Why do you assume that I am always thinking of sex?” he asked with a questionable look. 

She narrowed her eyes, scoffing. “Well, I’m going to start with the fact that your hand is on my thigh under my t-shirt and your pinky is trying to slip into my underwear.” He groaned, pulling his hand away and resting both on his forehead. “You wouldn’t be so disappointed if you weren’t thinking about sex.” 

“I’m not thinking about sex,” he grumbled and she rolled her eyes, getting out of bed. “Where are you going?” 

“You’re going to share a chocolate bar with me because I need chocolate and don’t want to eat a whole one alone,” she explained, skipping back over to the bed with the chocolate bar in hand. She popped a piece in her mouth and broke one off for him, dropping it into his mouth.

“Now I’m going to have to brush my teeth again,” he complained and she rolled her eyes as she sat down next to him. 

“There is nothing wrong with brushing your teeth again,” she mumbled. 

“I have to get out of bed,” he uttered and she laughed, handing him another piece of chocolate. 

“Cute,” she giggled, kissing his cheek. “Get your hand off of my ass,” she whispered in his ear and he groaned. “I’m not sleeping with you, not yet.” 

“Why?”

“Why do you want sex that bad?” she asked, her brows furrowed. 

“Look at you—do you not see you? You don’t look in the mirror, you seriously don’t.” She rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not because I want sex or-or because all I want from you is sex. It’s because I want to see… you. Sex is vulnerable, sex is… you’re the most bare around somebody when you have sex—literally. I love you and yes, I wanna… do that with you, but… I don’t know. It’s not about the sex… it-it-it’s about the sex,” he added and they both laughed. 

“You wanna see me, I get it,” she whispered, kissing him slowly until they pulled back with gasps. “You are a serious flirt and ladies man, you know that? You know how to talk a woman up, but you’re still not going to see me naked.” 

“I’ve felt your boob,” he commented and she huffed. 

“What happened to not talking about that?” 

“You started it,” he murmured and she rolled her eyes, setting the chocolate bar on the nightstand. “It’s the truth.” 

“Shut up,” she laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Bully. Your mom should have named you bully.” 

“My dad named me,” he sighed as he got up off the bed. 

“Well, whoever named you should have named you bully!” she exclaimed and he laughed. “Such a pain. Did you, like, ever get told you were a pain as a child? I never listened.” 

“I never listened,” he mocked, and she groaned. “I would kiss you but gotta brush my teeth.” She glared and he smirked. “This is where I call you cute, but… toothbrush,” he said as he started to brush his teeth.

They each did so in silence and she followed him back into the bedroom when they were finished. “When we do have sex,” she started, turning off her light before she laid. “Do we have to make one of those, like, sex contracts?”

“Like _Fifty Shades of Grey_ sex contract?” he questioned and she nodded. “Do chains and whips excite you?”

“Did you just basically quote Rihanna to me?” she asked, sitting up. “You quoted S&M and didn’t think I’d notice.” 

“Oh, no,” he chuckled. “I knew you’d notice, it’s why I did it.” 

“You quoted Rihanna!” she laughed and he did the same, tugging her arm gently so she’d lay back down. “You are—you quoted Rihanna.” 

“Yes, I quoted Rihanna,” he laughed and she scoffed. “Can we get back to what we were talking about?” 

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, rolling onto her side and tucking her hand under her head. “So, do we have to make up a sex contract thing or is that not normal?” 

He chuckled, shrugging. “Are you being serious about this? This is something you want to talk about?” She nodded, her face going from giggling to serious. “Okay, then, uh… what _don’t_ you like? What’s-What’s something you absolutely won’t do, like ever?”

“Um,” she started, cringing. “I don’t want other people or-or people watching. I’m self-conscious as is and adding in another person would be too busy and… no. Just no. You?”

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I really don’t know.”

“Because you’ve already done too much?” she joked and he shrugged. “Oh my god, Jug.”

“I have a lot of people to choose from,” he mumbled and she laughed. “I do gotta agree with you though. Let’s keep it to just us.” She giggled, sighing. 

“I really don’t know what I do and don’t like yet,” she whispered sheepishly, watching him closely. “I’d rather try as we go, you know?” 

“I’ll help you figure it out,” he mumbled, kissing her quickly. “We’ll talk about this more when we get there.” She nodded, rolling over so her back was against his front. “Goodnight, Betts.” 

She sighed, threading her fingers through his. “Night, Jug.” 

_November 26th_

Betty rolled over on the bed, furrowing her brows when she couldn’t feel Jughead. She opened her eyes, squinting at the empty spot. “Jug?” she asked groggily, sitting up. “Jug, what are you doing?” she questioned, getting out of bed and walking over to the balcony. 

He was sitting on the ground, his back pressed against the glass as he stared out into the water. She sighed, leaning against the open door next to him and shivering. “Jug, it’s cold. Come back inside, please.” 

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. 

She chewed her lip, sitting down inside and leaning against the other side of the glass. “I’ll sit with you then,” she mumbled and he looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

He ran his eyes over her face, narrowing his eyes. He clenched his jaw, opening his mouth to speak. She froze, watching him with wide eyes. 

She felt like he was about to reveal something. Something she should know but was too oblivious to see. Just by the look in his eyes alone, she knew it was big. Jughead didn’t hold many things close to heart but when he did, they were huge. 

“I’m okay,” he started, giving her a smile. She let out a silent breath of relief. She was fretting over nothing. “Thank you.” 

She nodded, giving him a smile back. “I love you, it’s what I’m supposed to do,” she murmured. 

He chuckled, nodding as he looked back at the water. “I love you too,” he uttered, swallowing thickly. 

He wants to tell her, he needs to tell her. He was getting worse and he didn’t have much longer. 

She smiled wide beside him, sighing. “Stay here,” she whispered, standing up. She came back with a blanket, stepping around him and lowering herself into his lap. “Oh my god, you are freezing!” she laughed, her voice hushed. 

He chuckled, helping her fix the blanket around themselves. “It’s not that bad,” he whispered into her hair. “I think you’re being dramatic.” She giggled, laying her head on his shoulder and yawning. “Go to sleep, I’ll bring you inside when I’m ready.” 

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his body as he breathed deeply. She snuggled deeper into him, fisting his shirt in her hands. 

He should have told her. He had her full attention and she deserved to know. And he was going to tell her, but he choked—hard. 

He had an appointment tomorrow to get more scans done, he needed to know how much it had progressed in a week because he was certain it’s gotten significantly worse. He knew a week wasn’t much time, but he had a GBM. It grows rapidly. 

He didn’t want to go alone, he was terrified of going alone. What if he went in and never came out? What if they force him to stay? He couldn’t leave her, all he wanted was her. 

All he wanted was her, all he needed was her. Betty was the reason he was still here, the reason he was still trying to live. Without her, all he would be was a tumor. 

Without her, he’d be nothing but another guy who got diagnosed with the deadliest cancer in the world. Another guy who would rot away in a hospital bed wishing he was doing something better. 

At least he got to travel, see the world, fall in love. He’s doing more than his 15-year-old self could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for the long gap between chapters but chapter 7 is finally here!!! All your comments and kudos are appreciated and I’m glad that so many people are enjoying this story. 
> 
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	8. Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 26th_

Betty gasped, hurrying out of the bed and to the window. “What are you doing?” Jughead groaned tiredly. 

“It’s snowing,” she gasped. “Look. Come look at the snow,” she whispered and he narrowed his eyes, a smile teasing his face. “Jughead, come here.” 

“Why are you whispering?” he chuckled, coming over to her. 

“We’re always yelling, figured I’d give the people next to us some quiet.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, sighing. “It, like, never snows in Venice. Isn't it cool that we get to see it?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing thickly. He stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, do you-do you want breakfast?” 

“Yeah, sure,” she whispered, sinking down in one of the chairs by the window and staring intently at the snow. 

He nodded, smirking. He sighed as he stepped into the living room. All he could think about was telling her. She needed to know. He needed her to know. But when he’d try to say the words, when he would try to force them out, they wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t make themselves known. 

He was afraid. He’s been afraid since the beginning, he just tried not to show it. He didn’t want to fall in love, he didn’t want a relationship, he didn’t want any of this. He didn’t even want a friend. Although here he is, ordering room service for him and his goddamn girlfriend. 

Of course the girl he’s seen for years; the girl he’s thought was absolutely stunning since he knew what that word meant; the girl who pushed him away and chose someone new; the girl who broke him for most of his life; of course _that girl_ is finally his right before he dies. Right before he’s about to launch into the endless pit of death and go and rot in a grave. 

Maybe he’ll be cremated. Cheaper, no funeral, can be sprinkled wherever he wants. Sounds calming. 

Death doesn’t sound calming. “Is death calming?” he mumbled, clenching his jaw. 

“Why are you asking me if death is calming?” she asked incredulously, walking over to him and sitting down next to him on the couch. “Jug, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, chewing his lip. “Just wanna know. It’s basic information. What do-What do you think?” 

“Well, I think it depends on _how_ you die,” she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Like, if you get hit by, uh, truck, I don’t think that’s calming. I think it’s… it’d be scary and… you don’t always die on impact so suffering could be involved. And then you could die in your sleep. I think that’s calming. I mean, you don’t get to say goodbye, but you won’t know and… you just go right over, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“What do you think?” she questioned and he shrugged. 

He inhaled deeply, shrugging. “I-I don’t know,” he whispered, looking down at his hands. “I, um, I agree with you.” 

She nodded, giving him a smile. “Okay,” she breathed, kissing his cheek. “I’m going to go take a shower. I don’t care what you get me,” she giggled, squeezing his hand. 

~

“Where do you want to go after this?” Jughead asked and Betty shrugged. “Haven’t given it much thought?” 

She shook her head, setting her plate on the nightstand. “I don’t want to leave here, it’s pretty here. But I also do wanna see more of the world, you know?” She sighed, adjusting her pillows. “I want to go to Spain. I know other places are closer, but I want to go to Spain next.” 

“Then Spain is where we’ll go,” he answered with a grin. She nodded, smiling herself. They held eye contact for a while and he inhaled sharply, ready to blurt that he has a massive GBM that’s continuing to absorb his brain. “Lets watch a movie,” he mumbled instead. 

Her face changed from the questioning look to a smile and she nodded. “Okay,” she breathed, getting out of bed to find her computer. 

~

Betty sighed, sitting down on the bench at the foot of the bed. “I don’t think he feels well,” she whispered into the phone. “He’s not… Jughead anymore, he just seems sad.” 

“Talk to him,” Alice stated.

“I’ve tried,” she mumbled, looking into the living room. “I mean, I got him this notebook so he’ll have something to do and so he’ll get _something_ out and he’s using it, but I wanted him to talk to me.” 

“You don’t always get what you want—especially with men,” Alice explained. “They’re stubborn and moody but at some point, they’ll talk. You just have to give him time. Whatever it is, it’ll eventually come out. But don’t you dare force it out of him. Forcing it out of him will only make it worse for the both of you.” 

Betty chewed her lip, looking down at the floor. “But I want to know what’s wrong,” she muttered.

“I know you do,” Alice stated, breathing deeply. “You have to trust him. If you really do love him, you will. Just give it time.” 

“No, I’m tired of waiting,” she huffed. “He constantly keeps me in the dark and I’m tired of it! I want to help him, mom. I want to-I want to be there for him but he’s not letting me! I’m tired of waiting,” she breathed, ending the call. 

She stood up off of the seat, smoothing her hands over her thighs. She took in a deep breath, walking out into the living room. “I’m not telling you anything,” he said, not looking up from the paper. “I’m not ready.” 

“Jug-”

“Betty,” he huffed, closing the notebook and setting it aside. “You don’t go behind someone's back when they say they’re not ready. You don’t protest, you don’t plead—you respect what they want. I know I’ve been an asshole and I haven’t been doing that, but if you can do it for me I will can it with the sex jokes and the touches and everything. I should have understood what you wanted since the beginning, but I didn’t and that’s wrong and I’m so sorry, but you have to understand that I am not ready to talk about what I’m going through yet.” 

She let out a deep breath, smoothing her hand over her stomach. “But I want to help you-”

“I understand that,” he mumbled firmly. “But I am not ready. I’m not ready for someone else to-to be there, to know what’s going on. I’m not ready for that and I don’t know when I will be. But I’ll give you something if that will make you leave it alone.” 

Her eyes went wide and she nodded. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered. 

He sighed, clenching his jaw. “My scar, on my head, it’s not from a, uh, skateboarding accident or whatever I said happened.” She furrowed her brows, giving him a confused look. “When I was 15, I was diagnosed with a medulloblastoma.” 

“What’s-What’s that?” she asked breathily, swallowing thickly.

“It’s a brain tumor,” he answered and she let out a breath, squeezing her eyes closed. “It was malignant, and it’s common. It was stage II so we caught it early and they took most of it out. Barely any of it was left behind. I went through chemo and radiation for a while afterwards and then I was fine. So yeah, I lied about the scar but I don't like talking about it. I’m-I’m lucky I was okay because I stopped getting treatment for a few months ‘cause of my dad. But now you know something, something I don’t just tell anyone who will listen. There you go.” 

She breathed deeply and he went back to the notebook, continuing to write. She watched him with an upset look, chewing on her lip. “You had cancer,” she whispered and he nodded.

“Wasn’t much fun,” he sighed, not looking at her. “Do with the information what you want.” 

“Jughead, that was a lot-”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, still not looking at her. “I was thinking we could go to dinner,” he said after a moment, closing the notebook and dropping the pen he was using on top of it. “That way it somewhat resembles Thanksgiving.” 

“No one eats out on Thanksgiving,” she uttered, wiping her face dry. 

“I do,” he said with a forced smile. “Go do whatever you have to do. I wanna… I wanna leave soon.” 

“Are you annoyed with me or something?” she blurted, her eyes questioning. “I just… are you? I get it, you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m girlfriend. You’re-You’re supposed to tell me this stuff.” 

“Please, Betty, just stop,” he sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “I just need time.” 

She sighed, standing. “Fine,” she breathed, walking away.

~

Betty and Jughead walked side-by-side, the air between them tainted. It was weird and awkward and they couldn’t blame it on their relationship this time. This time it was because of secrets, something you’re not supposed to have when you’re in a relationship. 

Betty was an open book. She let everyone know how she was feeling every moment and would talk through everything. She was healthy, pretty stable. 

Jughead on the other hand was worse than a stuck lock. He didn’t let anyone in and talking about things was a drag. It was too much of a hassle. He was sick and dying, what else was there to talk about?

He cleared his throat, fixing the back of his hat. “I’m, uh, going to be gone for a little while tomorrow,” he started watching his feet. 

“Why?” she asked softly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Do you want me to come?” 

“No,” he said quickly, sighing. “I just… my doctor in New York, he wanted me to, uh, get checked out again, get a follow-up for my seizures.” 

“Have you had one again?” she asked hastily, her eyes going from questioning to frightened. “Jughead, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” he stated, huffing. “I just need a follow-up. They’re going to confirm that fact—that I’m okay. But, um, I want to go alone. Being around each other all the time, it’s not really that healthy. You know, we gotta do something by ourselves.” 

She nodded, letting out a slow breath and looking at the ground. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You’re-You’re right. Being around each other all the time isn’t healthy. I might go on a walk or something tomorrow, go do something by myself, too.” 

“Okay,” he mumbled, nodding. “We could meet for lunch—if-if I’m done by then.” 

“That sounds good,” she muttered, giving him a smile before she laughed. “Sorry, we just… we sound old. Like we’re trying to save our marriage or something.” 

He nodded, chuckling. “We do,” he agreed and she nodded, biting her lip. He glanced over at her and her eyes met his. The air changed from dry to damp in a second and he was tugging her into an alley, his lips crashing onto hers as he shoved her against the wall. 

The space was cramped and tight and it didn’t give them much room but they couldn’t care. The waiting and anticipation game they had been playing was officially too much and they were done with it. They could keep pretending that they _didn’t_ have overly sexual feelings towards one another and keep being miserable, or they could admit it and just rip off the band-aid. 

She panted into his mouth and he hiked her up against the wall, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she breathed, moaning as he bit at her neck and collarbone. 

“Neither was I,” he admitted, kissing her again before she could say anything in response. Their teeth clashed together and his tongue was tracing every inch of her mouth. 

His hands slipped under her dress and she whimpered before they heard approaching footsteps. He dropped her quickly and they each gave the woman a smile as she brushed past them. Betty fixed her dress and hair as she did so, while Jughead adjusted himself so you couldn’t see his erection through his pants. 

They both bursted into laughter when the woman was gone, Betty dropping her head back against the building while Jughead dropped his to her shoulder. “Oh, my god,” she laughed. “We just got caught.” He laughed harder and she did the same, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.” 

“You should have seen your face,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You were so scared. You looked like we were about to be arrested.” 

“We’re lucky we didn’t get very far,” she muttered, smoothing her hair as they walked out of the alley. “That would have been the most horrific thing that would have ever happened to me.” 

“It’s worse when it’s your parent catching you,” he whispered sheepishly and she gasped. “ _That_ was traumatizing. He didn’t take it well, it’s how he found out I was into girls and guys.” 

“You were with a guy?” she asked and he cleared his throat.

“I was-I was with him,” he forced and she laughed. 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “But I… that’s…” 

“You can laugh,” he chuckled. “It’s funny now, thinking about it, but when it was happening…” He huffed, shaking his head. “You can’t really explain a lot when, um, someone’s…” He waved his hand, sighing. “Let’s just leave it at that.” 

She laughed, groaning. “I feel bad for you,” she said, linking her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. “My moms almost—emphasis on the almost—done that to me. But I wasn’t with a guy, I was by myself. I thought I was home alone, that’s the only time I do anything.” 

“That computer was too loud,” he mumbled and she scoffed. 

“I do not use the computer,” she huffed. “My phone and headphones,” she added sheepishly and he laughed. “It’s normal!” 

“No, I know that. Everyone does it, it’s just the way you say it,” he laughed. “It’s hard to explain what you did, but it was funny. It was innocent.” She gave him a smile and he shook his head. “You need to get stuff situated for Spain.”

“I thought we don’t leave for another four days,” she questioned with a confused look. 

He shrugged, weighing the idea. “Technically, we don’t but that fourth day, we leave so it’s not really a day when we’re here, you know?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it’s almost been a week already.” 

“I know,” he chuckled. “The days go by pretty quickly. But when we get to the hotel, you have to find somewhere to go, get the flight situated, hotel, all that shit. I should start paying you for all the shit you do for me. And for putting up with me.” 

“You being happy and smiling is payment enough,” she explained and he blushed as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re bashful!” 

“Shut up,” he gritted out, his blush deepening. She giggled, squealing. 

“You’re adorable,” she giggled, kissing him quickly. “I love you.” 

~

“8:30?” Jughead read allowed off of the screen, shaking his head. “Not happening, change that. Who do you think I am? I don’t even wake up at 8:30 when we’re home.” 

“Jug, it wouldn’t be that bad. You’re awake at 2 in the morning at home,” she said with a shrug and he shook his head, sitting down on the bed next to her. 

“I love you,” he started. “But I will murder you if you make me get on a plane at 8:30 in the morning.” 

“Single-handedly the most romantic words I’ve ever heard,” she joked, wiping away a fake tear from the corner of her eye. He rolled his eyes, laying back on the bed. “Does 10:30 work for you?” 

“11,” he protested. 

“ _10:30_ ,” she stated firmly. 

He huffed, resting his arm over his forehead. “Fine,” he sighed. 

“10:30 it is,” she mumbled, clicking a few keys and nodding. “All done.” She giggled, setting the computer on her nightstand and giving him a quick kiss. “We’re ready for Spain.” 

“We never finished what we started,” he whispered, raising a brow. 

She sighed, shaking her head. “No. No, not yet. That was a… no.” 

“No, like you were uncomfortable,” he questioned with wide, concerned eyes. Did he overstep? “Or no, like it’s not gonna happen again?” 

“No, like it's not gonna happen again… for a while.” She nodded, kissing him quickly. “We were caught in the moment and then we got interrupted—which was a good thing. And it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I just think it’d be a little trashy to have sex with you where we started dating.” 

“We said I love you before we were even dating,” he scoffed. “Most people do that way after sex.” 

She frowned, flicking his forehead. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” she gritted, rolling over to turn off her light. 

“Jesus,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Do you know how to make someone pass out too?” He huffed, shaking his head. “That hurt.” 

“Good,” she stated with a short nod, “that was my intention.” He narrowed his eyes at her and she giggled. “Are you planning on staying outside for half the night again?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t even know why I did that,” he whispered and she started to run her fingers through his hair. “I just… I don’t even know why I woke up. I-I think you were squirming and you were kicking me.” 

“I kick in my sleep?” she questioned, pausing her hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re okay,” he mumbled with a grin. She coaxed his head to her chest and he breathed deeply, wrapping his arms around the waist. “The sky was nice, there were tons of stars. If you were awake, if you had seen more of it, you would have liked it.” 

“I only saw some of it and it was pretty,” she whispered, continuing to stroke his hair. “You know, if you want me to ever hold you like this, you don’t have to be ashamed of it. You can ask even. I know it’s taboo for guys to want love and affection,” she teased and he laughed. 

He looked back and up at her, his eyes shining. She smiled, biting her lip. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiled up at her and she nodded, squeezing him tight before she began to stroke his hair again. 

_November 27th_

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Betty asked, and Jughead nodded. He dropped a chaste kiss to her lips. “100%?” she questioned.

“100%,” he sighed, kissing her slowly and she giggled. They pulled apart and she let out a deep breath. “Meet you for lunch?”

She nodded, twisting the hair at the nape of his neck around her finger. “If you can and, uh, let’s do it here. Make it easy, you know?” 

He chuckled, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, so see you at 12,” she mumbled, and he nodded. 

He grinned, chuckling. “I gotta go now,” he started, sighing. “Love you.” 

“Love you,” she breathed, kissing him quickly before letting him walk off. She sighed, wringing her hands together and groaning. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

~

Jughead handed his scans over to the neurosurgeon (they had refused to not let him see her and insisted she checked him out) and her eyes widened. 

“These are you?” she asked, setting them on the illuminator and giving him a questioning look. 

He inhaled deeply nodding. “Y-Yes, ma’am. The first one is from a-a month ago and the second one is from a few weeks ago and then… well, the last one’s from today.” 

She nodded, looking back at the scans. “You should be dead,” she said simply, sitting down on her stool. “You see how progressed these are? It’s centimeters from your optic nerves. If you don’t die in the next… month or so, you’ll definitely be blind.” 

“They said I had six months,” Jughead uttered, his stomach churning. 

“No,” she sighed, still intently staring at the scans. “That’s a big stretch. I say 2 at the very most. Have your symptoms worsened at all? Is anything bothering you more in particular?”

He shrugged. “Loud noises and bright lights, my-my nausea and vomiting. Um, and-and my anger issues are getting worse.” 

“Well, the loud noises and bright lights are because of the persistent headaches, right?” she asked and he nodded. “And the nausea and vomiting I’m sure are because of the headaches as well. Are you on something for anger, though?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He held in his breath.

“And you take it everyday?” 

“Give-Give or take.” She nodded and he fixed the back of his hat. He stared at his feet and hands, not liking the outcome of this visit. 

“This is definitely the most progressed GBM I’ve ever seen where the patient is still alive. You’re very, very lucky.” He felt sick. Why would you tell someone this? “Call your loved ones, tell them you care about them, that you’re thinking about them—that’s the best thing you can do. And tell someone if you haven’t already. Everyday you wake up and get out of bed and lead a normal life, you’re lucky. You’re on damage control, and have been since you were diagnosed.” 

“Damage control?” he questioned.

She nodded, turning towards him. “Damage control. These meds that they’re giving you and that you’re taking, they only help to a certain extent before they become a routine and they don’t do anything anymore. Your headaches will get significantly worse and I’m sure you’ve heard that before. But you may think they’re bad now, but they’re nothing compared to what they’ll feel like a month from now—if you make it that long. All I know to say to you is that you’re lucky. You’re lucky you’re not blind, deaf, dead.” 

She glanced back at the scan for a moment then back to him. “You should consider at least a little bit of chemo-”

“No,” he answered sternly, cutting her off. “I had a brain tumor when I was 15, I went through chemo already, okay? I know what it’s like, I know how sick it makes you. I don’t care if it _might_ give me extra time. I don’t want to spend that ‘extra time’ in a hospital bed wishing I was dead. I don’t want treatment, I decided that a long time ago.” 

“A debriding-” 

“I don’t want brain surgery! I don’t want any surgery!” he shouted, interrupting her again. “You are a surgeon, you just want to cut, it’s in your blood. And you have the hopes that I’ll be the first person that gets the whole tumor removed and doesn’t die on the table or who doesn’t come out brain dead! You want me to live so I can be a medical miracle and you can get a stupid award for a surgery that you put your fucking name on! It’s bullshit! I came for follow up scans, not a lecture on how you think you can save me.” 

“It’s not like that-”

“It is.” He stated the words firmly and she clenched her jaw. “I’m 18, I know that’s young, but people die from this tumor everyday. If I was 81, you, and every other doctor, would respect my decision. But to all of you, I’m a child who has so much life to live. I don’t want to live the rest of it in a bed, inside of a hospital, getting toxins put into my body. I don’t want it. Treat me like an 81 year-old fucking man and understand what I want.” 

She sighed, taking his scans off the light board. She gave them back to him and he put them in the folder he kept them in. He placed them carefully into his backpack, pulling it on. 

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, already scribbling on a prescription pad. 

“I don’t need sleeping pills.” 

She tore the paper, handing it out to him. “I’ve seen people like you. You’re all big and bad right now, but you _will_ get worse, it’s not going to skip over you. You will go blind, you might go deaf, you will die because this tumor is taking over your brain at a rapid rate. You’re not going to want to live and you’re not going to come to a hospital for help, I can tell. Take it, you’re going to want the pills.” 

He narrowed his eyes, toying with the paper in his hands. “You’re giving me sleeping pills so when I get bad…? Isn’t that illegal?” 

“You can’t sleep. And they say it’s calming, you don’t want to be in pain when you do die, do you?” He shook his head and she stood. “Live your life, kid. I’m serious.” 

She left the room and he stood there dumbfounded. He looked down at the paper again, letting out a long breath. Now he had to find a pharmacy. 

~

Betty waited anxiously at her table. People were giving her weird looks and shook their heads as they talked. They knew something was up. 

She couldn’t technically consider this being stood up. She knew he might not show because he couldn’t, he’s busy. So she couldn’t be upset with him, that wouldn’t be fair.

The waiter came over, a sad smile on her face. “We can’t wait forever. If you’re not going to order, you’re going to have to go. We need this table.” She sighed, nodding. She took her bag and jacket and got up out of her seat. “Other guys that are better than him will come around, they always do.” 

Betty inhaled deeply, nodding. “Yeah,” she whispered. She put on her nicest small smile, walking out of the dining area like nothing happened. 

She walked upstairs and to their room in silence, closing the door and sinking down against it. She felt like an idiot. Of course he didn’t show. 

She’s allowed to be a little upset. He could have found a phone somewhere and called, it wouldn’t have been that hard. Why couldn't he have just called, saving her the humiliation? 

She sighed, dropping her head into her hands and starting to cry. She wasn’t even sure where the tears had come from, but they came and didn’t decide to stop. 

~

Jughead heaved, coughing as he sunk down to the ground. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his head in his hands. He sniffled, pushing himself up off of the ground. 

It was almost 7 o'clock. He didn’t know how he had been gone since 9 am, but he has. He had wandered around the city. He hadn’t really observed or looked at anything, he just walked. 

He was popping his Advil like candy and probably looked like he was addicted to it. Can you be addicted to Advil?

He googled the question quickly, scrolling past the rehab helpline and going straight to the article. Not even three paragraphs in he was standing up and dropping the bottles he had into a nearby trash can. The last thing he needed to be labeled when he died was a drug addict. 

He pulled his bag on, pausing when he walked past a flower shop. “ _Everyday you get out of bed and lead a normal life, you’re lucky_.” the neurosurgeon's voice said in his head. “ _You’re on damage control, and have been since the day you were diagnosed_.” it finished. 

“Screw it,” he whispered. He couldn't wait anymore and he'd rather tell her when she’s happy and lazy anyway. 

He walked inside, the woman at the counter giving him a smile. She spoke to him in Italian and he gave her a panicked look. He should learn the language before he comes to the country. 

She seemed to understand the look and nodded. “I was asking what occasion the flowers were for,” she giggled and he let out a chuckle. 

“Um, there’s-there’s no occasion,” he answered, rocking on his feet. He’s never bought flowers before. 

“Spur of the moment,” she whispered to herself walking around the counter. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” 

“Girlfriend.” She nodded and he watched her. 

She moved around the store, plucking flowers from displays and fitting them into a bouquet. She put a bow around it when she was done, moving back to the counter. 

He paid for them and gave her a smile, hurrying off. He needed to get back to the hotel before Betty killed him with her own two hands. 

He apologized when he ran in front of a car, grateful he was much closer to the hotel than he thought. He jogged down the street, stopping in front of the building to catch his breath before he went inside. 

Instead of freezing in front of their door, he went right through it, closing it behind himself. He walked into the bedroom and she gave him a concerned look. 

“Where have you been? And why do you have flowers?” Her brows were furrowed and her eyes were red. She’s been crying. 

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t know why I have flowers, I don’t know where I’ve been. I won’t even lie that I lost track of time for lunch. I just… didn’t come. I didn’t show up because I didn’t want to show up. I love you and I am so sorry that I am like this. I want to be different, I don’t want to do this to you constantly, but I don’t know how to change.” 

She sighed, standing up off the bed. “I’m sorry, Betts.” His eyes were soft and she cupped his face, kissing him. He dropped the flowers onto the seat at the end of the bed, holding her to him as he kissed back, pouring all his sorrow and love and fear into that single kiss. 

“Tell me you’re ready,” he whispered into her mouth. “I can’t let myself do anything until you tell me you want it.”

“I’m ready,” she panted, her hands curling in his hair as she looked him in the eye. “I’m ready, Jug.” 

His lips crashed onto her and she whimpered. He hauled her into his arms, dropping her on the bed and leaning over her. Her hands tightened in his hair as he moved over her jaw and neck, her breath leaving her in a gasp. 

He slipped his hands under her shirt and she drew in a shaky breath. “Woah,” she breathed and they both chuckled. “Your hands are really cold.” 

“Sorry,” he whispered and she shook her head. 

“It’s-It’s kinda nice.” He furrowed his brows and she moved a curl off of his forehead. “I’m hot—like, really hot because, well, this, and your hands are cool and they-and they feel good.” He smirked arrogantly and she groaned. “Not now.”

He chuckled and kissed her as he tightened his hold on her sides. He wondered vaguely if she could feel them trembling against her. He didn’t know if he should move them or leave them where they were. 

She pulled back from their kiss, crossing her arms in front of herself and peeling her shirt off. He breathed heavily over her, his thumbs tracing over her last rib. 

“Are-Are-Are you su-sure? We don’t, um… we-we don’t… we don’t have to do-do anything.” He stammered through his words, his eyes wide. 

“Jug,” she said softly, stilling his thumbs. “Do you want to stop?” 

“No,” he answered quickly, shaking his head. “I-I really… am-am I allowed to… to touch you?” 

She giggled, nodding. “It’s okay, Jug. I want this, I’m yours.” 

He breathed deeply, swallowing thickly as he looked down at her chest. “I’ve never been this nervous before,” he breathed and she raised a brow. He wasn’t talking to her, he was more so talking to her chest and it only confused her more. “I-I usually just do, you know? I don’t have to… have to think about what I’m doing but for some reason, I-I-I can’t just do. I don’t know why I’m nervous and-and stuttering. I wanna… I don’t wanna screw up and-and make this a bad experience for you.” 

She sighed, tilting his head up so his eyes met hers. “You’re not going to screw up,” she assured and he breathed deeply. “You have much more experience than I do and I’m sure you know more than I do. If anyone’s going to screw up, it’d be me. I’ve done… it’s always been vanilla, that’s-that’s it. Nothing more, not even a… I’ve never even touched a guy be-before. I mean, I’ve-I’ve touched a guy but I’ve never _touched_ a guy-” 

“We are both really bad at this,” he blurted and she laughed, nodding. “You won’t screw up, I’ll-I’ll help you.” 

“I would repeat that but I think it would be annoying to hear again,” she whispered and he chuckled, dipping his head to kiss her. 

She sighed, her hands threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands continued to shake at her sides, his thumbs continuing to shakily rub her ribs. He pulled back from their kiss and dropped his eyes to her chest. 

She pulled her lip between her teeth, chewing on it as she watched him stare. He swallowed thickly, tentatively sliding his hands up her sides until he cupped her breasts through her bra. She inhaled sharply, his eyes meeting hers. 

“Keep going,” she breathed and he nodded. He kissed her as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples through her bra and she arched into the touch. 

He pushed a hand under her and behind her back, making a horrible attempt at unhooking her bra. “Oh, what the fuck?” he cursed and she laughed.

“This bra’s a pain,” she giggled, struggling with the hooks for a moment before she undid it. “It takes a little to get it undone.” He huffed, snarling. “Oh, did I out sex the wannabe sex god?” 

“I am not a wannabe sex god,” he grumbled with narrowed eyes and she grinned. “Stop looking at me like that.” He looked down at her neck sheepishly and she bit back an adoration filled laugh. “Can I take it off?” he asked after a moment.

She swallowed thickly, getting tugged back to reality. She nodded slowly and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. The sun had set (they had been too busy kissing to figure out when) and the room was lit up in that very oddly romantic glow you only dreamed about. 

He slowly peeled off her bra, breathing deeply and squeezing his eyes closed. “Is that bad or good?” she questioned. 

“I need a moment or this is going to be really embarrassing,” he croaked before dropping her bra on the floor. He opened his eyes, tilting her chin up slightly so she was looking him in the eye. “You are stunning, I hope you know that.” 

She let out a breath, pulling him down for a deep kiss. He cupped her breasts again, this time his hands no longer shaking. She whimpered when he pinched her nipples between his pointer finger and thumb. He smirked against her mouth.

He trailed his kisses down over her neck, taking a moment to mouth at her pulse. He continued moving just before a bruise would appear later on, opting to place gentle bites along her collarbone. 

She breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. She wasn’t one to enjoy teasing and this wasn’t helping her change her mind on the fact. Anticipation was a silent killer to her. 

He kissed between her breasts, sucking a hickey under one. She groaned, huffing. 

“Jug,” she whined and he smirked devilishly. 

He leaned back over her, mouthing at her neck as he mumbled, “Are you needy, Elizabeth?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. “Obviously.” 

He tsked, shaking his head as he looked at her. “That only makes me want to go slower,” he whispered and she rolled her eyes. “You’re used to rushing through it, aren’t you?” 

“Why does that matter?” She was breathless and probably looked like a hot mess. 

“Bratty,” he muttered and she groaned. “You always get what you want. Waiting is good.” 

“I said that!” she exclaimed and he smirked, chuckling. “Jug, please. Can’t you… do all this the next time?”

“You’ll say that the next time too,” he said over her skin as he started to move back down her chest. “And the time after that, and then the times after that. It’s tedious and you don’t like tedious, you don’t like waiting. It’s understandable, but the more you complain, the more fun it is to not give you what you want.” She sighed, giving him pleading eyes. 

He moved back up to her mouth, kissing her quickly. “Even with that look,” he mumbled against her lips. “You’re not going to get me to move any quicker.” She reached for the button on his pants and he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. “Now, that’s just cheating.” 

She groaned, pushing her head back into the pillows as she squirmed. “You’re a pain,” she grumbled as he moved back to her chest. 

“You know you love this,” he whispered before locking eyes with her and wrapping his mouth around her nipple. She whimpered, arching up into his mouth. He smirked as it puckered against his tongue, grazing his teeth over it before he pulled his mouth off. 

“That was hardly anything,” she pouted and he shook his head. “You’re mean.” 

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, sucking a bruise in the crease of her breast. He sucked her other nipple into his mouth and she sighed, biting her lip. She wriggled against the hold he had on her hands and he tightened his hand. 

He picked his head up and she met his gaze. “Jughead, I am begging you. Just touch me, please. Please. I will do anything you ask, I promise.”

He kissed her deeply, tearing her tights off. She huffed, glaring. “That was rude,” she whispered and he shrugged. 

“They were in my way.” Before she could respond, he kissed her again. 

He let go of her hands and tugged her underwear down, dropping them over the side of the bed. He squeezed her hips, resting his forehead on hers and breathing deeply. “You want this?” he questioned, his voice shaky. “You swear?” 

“Yes, Jug.” She punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss. “Please.”

He sighed, clenching his hand into a fist in an attempt to still the tremor. Why was he so nervous? 

“Jug, look at me.” She stroked his hair, coaxing his eyes to hers. “You don’t have to impress me, you don’t have to sell me on something. Jug, just do what you always do. Don’t try to be this-this perfect guy or whatever. I don’t care, I love you and that’s not just your face or your body, I love all of you. I don’t care if you fuck up or you think you fuck up. Just do what you always do, I’m just another woman.” 

His voice was small as he uttered, “But you’re not and that’s the thing.” She furrowed her brows and he swallowed thickly. “You’re not just another woman and everyone I’ve ever been with was just a one-time-thing, you know? But I don’t want this to be a one-time-thing and I don’t want to, like, scare you away.” 

“Just do what you always do,” she whispered, kissing him softly and letting him deepen it. 

She gasped when he slipped two fingers through her folds and he bit her lip, smoothing his tongue over it almost immediately. He started to lazily rub her clit and she let out a breath, digging her nails into the back of his hand that went back to holding her wrists. 

He kissed over her jaw, moving his fingers down to probe at her before pulling them back up to her clit. She pinned down the moan that wanted to escape from low in her chest and tried to keep her breathing at bay. 

He moved to her chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth as he pushed two fingers into her. She let out a surprised moan, arching into his mouth and bucking into his hand. 

“Oh, my god,” she breathed, squeezing her eyes closed. He curled his fingers as he dragged them out and she groaned. She bit her lip again, breathing deeply. 

He moved across her chest to her other nipple, bumping his thumb over her clit. He added pressure at first, starting with tight circles but he lazied the stroke when he would curl his fingers. 

He continued with the action until she was wriggling and writhing, her foot locking around his thigh as her legs began to shake lightly. He let go of her wrists then and she fisted the pillow by her head as she moaned. 

“Do you want to cum?” he asked in her ear and she panted, rocking into his hand. 

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes. Jug, please.” He kissed her quickly before kissing over her neck and chest. She swallowed thickly, watching him as he peppered kisses over her abdomen, gasping when he nipped her hip. 

He moved down over her thighs, avoiding where he wanted to go. He bit at her thighs, sucking bruises there for her to find later. He wanted to be scolded for something so little. 

He sat back a moment later, pulling off his shirt and dropping it on the floor. Betty groaned, pushing her head back into the pillow and he smirked. 

No one had ever done this to her and feeling him suck her clit into his mouth made her go into overdrive. Her hands tightened in his hair as she bucked her hips up into his face with a load cry. 

He carried on, pulling his fingers out of her to pin her hips down. He dipped his tongue inside of her, his thumb stroking her clit. She panted under him, her hands twisting his hair as she tried to fill her lungs with air. 

She dug her heel into his back as she arched her chest up, moaning loudly. She was over sensitive and he wasn’t letting up. He continued to lick over her, sucking her clit into his mouth and lightly grazing his teeth over it. 

She groaned, breathing, “Jesus Christ.” She squeezed her eyes closed, scratching her nails over his scalp. He groaned and it reverberated through her. She gasped, trying to buck her hips but he kept them down on the bed. 

“Jug,” she whimpered and he hummed against her. “I’m… I’m-oh my god…” She cried out, holding him to her as she came. 

She had instinctively clenched her thighs around his head and he shoved them down onto the bed. He lapped at her until she wilted into the bed and he kissed back up her body, kissing her roughly. 

“Do you have one more in you?” he asked cockily and she laughed. 

“I can try,” she mumbled weakly and he rolled onto his back. “Jug, I can’t do that-”

“Yes, you can.” He gave her an assuring look and she swallowed thickly. “Come here,” he whispered, holding out his hands. 

She took them, shakily straddling his hips and threading her fingers through his. “I’ve never done this.” Her voice was shaky and uncertain. He brushed hair that was stuck to her forehead away, placing her hands on his shoulders so he could hold her hips. “What if I’m really bad?”

“Love, it’s not that hard.” 

“Yeah,” she breathed. “But you’ve done it before. I-I haven’t. I don’t wanna be bad and… disappoint you.”

“Trust me, you’re not going to.” He pulled her face down down to his, kissing her. 

She pulled back, breathing heavily. She tucked hair behind her ear, chewing her lip. She slipped down to his thighs and looked down at his belt then back up to his eyes. He nodded tinily and she nodded to herself. She undid it as quick as she could, shakily undoing the button on his pants and unzipping them. 

He helped her maneuver them off of his hips and she groaned. “What?” he chuckled.

“Boxers too, really? You didn’t, like, plan this?” He laughed, shaking his head. She tugged them down and he finished taking them off. “Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide when she met his gaze. “I didn’t expect you to be, uh… wow.”

He furrowed his brows, trying to fight the flush that was trying to fill his face. “I can’t tell if that’s a good wow or a bad wow,” he muttered to fill the silence as she stared at him with huge eyes. 

“...Good, def-definitely good.” She continued to stare at him and he bit back a laugh. He tilted her chin up and her cheeks were red, her eyes shining. “Is it going to hurt?” 

“It… shouldn’t,” he whispered, clenching his jaw. Innocence was the one thing he could always handle. Yet with her, it was driving him insane. He pulled her down for a kiss, holding her hips. 

She raised up slightly, gasping and digging her nails into his shoulder when she brushed herself over him. “You got it,” he whispered, and she found one of his hands at her waist, squeezing. “Keep going, love. I got you, I promise.” 

She rested her forehead on his, brushing herself over him a few times before she felt comfortable enough to sink down on him. It took her a moment and he helped her, but once she got it, she froze. She looked at him with wide eyes and gripped his shoulder like a vice.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she mumbled. “What if I break it? You’d hate me if I broke it.” 

“You’re not gonna break it, and you’re not going to hurt me. And I wouldn’t hate you.” She let out a panting breath, biting her lip. “If you want, keep going.” 

“Yeah?” she asked. He nodded and she sighed.  
She raised up on him slightly, sinking down on him without hesitance. They moaned in unison and she sunk her nails into his shoulder. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice breathy. She whimpered and he helped her move over him. 

When she got hold of a rhythm, he let her take control. She shuddered after a minute, whimpering. “Jug, I-I can’t…” She dropped her forehead onto his. “I can’t…” She whined, moaning.

“You can,” he grunted, cupping her chin. “Open your eyes, love.” She opened them slowly, breathing heavily. “Look at me. Just keep looking at me.” 

“Jug,” she whimpered. 

“Betts, just look at me.” She moaned, fighting to keep her eyes on his. “Good girl. There you go.” 

“Jug, no,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezing closed. “I can’t! I can’t!”

She sobbed, her walls clenching on him. “Holy fuck,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up and spilling into her. She collapsed onto him, burying her face in his neck as she tried to catch her breath. 

“You did so good,” he whispered into her hair and she whimpered, squeezing him as much as she could. “You did good, love.” 

She rolled over onto the bed next to him, placing a hand over her chest as she breathed hard. “Are you okay?” he asked and she nodded, sighing. 

He smiled tinily, kissing her quickly. “I love you,” she whispered and he grinned. 

“I love you.” She smiled, kissing him again. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, watching her. He swallowed thickly, getting up out of bed and pulling on his boxers. She sat up, her brows furrowed. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, concerned. 

He stopped at the bathroom door, licking his lips before he looked her in the eye. “I have a Glioblastoma. It’s the deadliest brain cancer in the world and I have… about two months to live at most.” He sighed, tapping the wall once. “I’m dying,” he whispered.

He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. She gasped, her hand on her chest for a whole new reason as her exhaustion disappeared with the gasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is getting closer!! I am so grateful for everyone who is reading this fic. All of your comments and kudos make me so happy. I hope you had a great holiday and have a good new year!!! 
> 
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


	9. Madrid, Spain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_November 28th_

“Jughead, open the door!” Betty sobbed, wriggling the bathroom door handle again. “Please,” she cried weakly, falling down at the floor and bringing her knees to her chest. 

He squeezed his eyes closed, leaning against the door. He didn’t want to look at her. He couldn’t look at her, it would kill him. 

“Please,” she whispered shakily. Her voice was quivering worse than he had ever heard it. She kept sniffling and it broke his heart. He did that. “Jug, we have to talk, please! I’m not mad, I’m confused. Help me understand, Jughead. I just want to talk.” 

He leaned his head back against the door, chewing his cheek. 

“Jug,” she whimpered. “Please.” Her voice broke and the wiggling of the doorknob stopped. “Are you alive?” she asked and he let out a huff. Dramatic.

He stuck his hand under the door and she clutched to it urgently as if it was a life vest and she was drowning. 

He didn’t know why he hid. He didn’t know why he went to the bathroom. He hated seeing her upset. He had only seen it a handful of times, but it was heartbreaking. She was always so bubbly and shiny, seeing her crying was like seeing snow in July—painful. 

They needed to talk, but was he ready to talk? Maybe they should wait until morning, they’re bound to be tired if they don’t. But he doubts Betty wants to wait until morning and he’s not sure if he really ever wants to sleep again. 

With a long sigh, he reached up and unlocked the bathroom door. He heard Betty gasp and he scrambled away from the door quickly. He was still trying to stand as she flung herself into his arms with a guttural sob that shook her whole body. She was shuddering and her teeth were chattering and _Jesus Christ, does she really care about me this much?_

“Love, I’m okay,” he whispered, his hand tangling in her hair. It was a mess and it wasn’t just from sex. “Betty, I’m fine.” She sobbed again, clutching to him so vigorously it seemed as if she was trying to swallow into him. “You’re going to get sick, you have to calm down for me, love. Breathe, Betts.” 

“I-I-I-I ca-can’t,” she cried, struggling to mumble the words. 

“I can feel that.” He stroked her hair gently, kissing her head every few seconds. “You have to calm down. I’m here, I’m okay. We can’t talk until you breathe-” 

“You bastard!” she shouted when she picked her head up, cutting him off. He looked at her with wide eyes. Mood switch of the century. “You kept this from me? How long have you known? You have been dying and you just told me now? Bastard!” She hit his chest and he grunted, clenching his jaw. “Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard… bast…” She sobbed again as the word got softer and softer, her hits becoming nothing. Her head dropped back to his chest.

“I deserved that,” he whispered, kissing her temple. “It was idiotic but Betts, I didn’t want to upset you. Look at how you’re reacting now, this is heartbreaking. It was easier to not tell you than to watch you like this. This hurts more than anything.” 

She moved her head so her cheek was resting on his shoulder, sniffling. “How long have you known?” she asked, looking up at him with pained eyes.

He sighed, adjusting her in his arms so he could lean against the wall. “Since Halloween.” She let out a breath, shaking her head. “I should have told you, but I-I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. You won’t ever understand, but I’m asking you to try.” 

“You really only have 2 months?” She looked back up at him and he swallowed thickly, tears filling his eyes.

“No,” he said, his voice wavering. “I’m-I’m not… Betty, I’m supposed to be dead. I might not wake up tomorrow. That’s… I can’t keep being afraid of dying. I-I act like I’m not… I am terrified. I don’t want to die, but I don’t have a choice—not-not anymore.” She cupped his face and tears rolled down each of his cheeks. “I am so… I am so scared, but I love you and I got what I wanted out of life, I-I think. I don’t want to die afraid, I don’t why die wondering… I don’t want to die.” 

She squeezed her eyes closed, bringing his forehead down to hers. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered before he sobbed. 

~

Betty sniffled, wiping her cheek. “This is-This is your brain?” she asked, looking over at Jughead. 

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and raw. 

They hadn’t slept. Betty’s exhaustion was visible, Jughead’s not so much. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and continued to rub at them every so often. She would make horrible attempts to muster her yawns and could barely drink the cup of coffee she requested without spilling the whole cup because her hands were so weak. 

Jughead was too worried about staying awake, trying to figure out ways to cheat natural death. He was fine, he wasn’t tired, he was used to staying up for days at a time. His dad was an alcoholic and drug addict. You didn’t sleep much in a house like that. 

She opened her mouth to say something but only yawned instead. “Betts, come here.” He gave her a stern look and she shook her head.

“I’m not tired.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re exhausted.” She rolled her eyes and he pulled a blanket off of the bed. “Come here. You’re going to sleep.” She huffed, crawling over to him and sitting down in his lap. 

He covered her with the blanket and she rested her head on his chest. “I’m not tired.” 

“Whatever you say,” he whispered, kissing the crown of her head. In minutes, she was asleep leaving him to stare out the balcony doors, thinking about everything that he couldn’t control.

_November 29th_

Jughead blinked, sitting up straight. He put a hand over his heart, letting out a breath when he could still feel it beating. Maybe he was being over anxious but he was allowed to be. He was tired of acting like this damn brain tumor didn’t scare him. 

“You can-You can get treatment! They have really good clinical trials in, uh, where was it? Damn it.” He squinted at Betty. That’s why he woke up, she was talking to him. 

She looked like she had gone mad. For the past two days, she has been researching everything about glioblastomas. She would read everything interesting she found out loud to him or anything she thought could save him. 

“In Rochester, Minnesota! You could get into one and they-and they could save you! They could save you, Jug. You wouldn’t have to die. You wouldn’t have to… why are you looking at me like that?” She deflated, panting. 

He clenched his jaw, looking down at his lap. “Betty, you don’t…” He sighed, looking back at her. “I _am_ dying. There is not a single clinical trial that will save me.”

“But-”

“I know what they say, trust me.” She sunk down to the floor, setting her laptop in front of her. “I looked into them, I did. As okay as I am with this diagnosis, I still looked at trials, I still looked at ways of treatments, I did everything you’re doing now. But Betts, I am on damage control. They are controlling my tumor, not treating it. I’m not even getting chemo or radiation because I know nothing is going to save me. I am a dead man walking.” 

She sighed, a deep frown appearing on her face. 

“We are wasting the time I have left by sitting in here and-and looking at this shit. Please, Betts, I don’t want to hear how Mayo Clinic has this new treatment that will save me no doubt. It won’t. You know it won’t, I know it won’t. You’re only doing this so when I do die, you can feel like you did something.”

“I don’t want you to die,” she whispered, looking up at him with sad eyes. 

He nodded, closing her laptop slowly. “I know. I know you don’t want me to. I don’t want to either, but no matter what we do, it’s going to happen. We leave for Spain tomorrow. No more being sad, no more worrying about what _might_ happen, we’re just going to go to Spain, okay?” 

“Spain,” she breathed and he nodded. 

“Spain.” 

_November 30th_

“Joining the mile high club isn’t on your bucket list before you die, right?” Betty asked, her brow raised. 

Jughead chuckled, shaking his head. “Definitely not on my bucket list that I don’t even have.” 

“Good because I have no need to have sex in a, like, 2 centimeter space. Someone could get hurt!” 

“Sh,” he whispered, his finger over his lips. “You okay with the fact that I’m dying now?” 

“No,” she mumbled with a shake of her head. “Not even a little bit but… I’m trying to be okay with it because you are and it’s just what’s going to happen.” 

He grabbed her hand, giving it squeeze. “You’re allowed to be upset.” 

“I know,” she whispered. “I know I am. And I will be, when the time comes. I’m not going to be upset about something that hasn’t happened yet.” 

He nodded, sighing as he looked out the window. She rested her head on his shoulder, holding his arm close to her chest. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She looked up at him with a smile and a nod. “I know you do.” 

~

“You seem less grumpy than you did before,” Betty commented and Jughead rolled his eyes, grabbing her bag off the conveyor belt and handing it to her. “I’m being serious. I think all your anger was because you were hiding something so large—and I don’t mean that as a pun. You just seem more at ease than you used to.” 

“Let’s not jinx it,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. 

“I’m not trying to jinx it, I’m just pointing out that-”

“Betty.” He gave her a stern look and she glanced down at her feet. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

“Don't apologize.” He held the door open for her and she walked out, shivering. “You’re cold?” 

“Yes, I’m cold. Did you not see my shiver? That wasn’t out of choice.” She winced, scrunching up her face. “Now I’m the grumpy one.”

“It’s because you’re not sleeping like you should be.” 

She huffed, giving him a confused look. “That’s a lie. I sleep like I’m supposed to.” He nodded, putting her things into their taxi. “I do!” 

He nodded again and she got inside the car grumbling. “If you didn’t stay up all night researching pointless shit, you wouldn’t be so tired.”

Her expression went from unbelievable to guilty in a flash. “What do-What do you mean?” she asked, her voice hushed. 

“You’re gonna play dumb? Really, Betty?” 

She inhaled deeply, chewing her bottom. “I don’t-”

“Stop looking,” he interrupted and she looked down at her lap. “I’m serious. Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter what this person says or what that person says. I am going to die and when I die, you’ll be too fucking exhausted from researching these outrageous surgeries and trials for you to even notice. I get it, you want to help, you want to find _something_ that will help me, but nothing will. Betty, I’m tired of being pissed at you, and you doing this only makes me want to scream. Stop. I am begging—and I don’t fucking beg—stop looking for a cure that doesn’t exist.” 

She clenched her jaw, avoiding his eyes. “I just thought that maybe you hadn’t looked hard enough, that maybe there was something there you kept passing.”

He sighed, nodding. “Thank you for caring. The thought, it’s, it’s sweet. But Betts, I don’t want anything done to me. I’ve been through brain surgery and it’s not fun. And I’m sure if I even went under the knife for one of these trials, I’d die on the table. I meant it when I told you I was dying.” 

She shuddered, looking out her window. “I don’t like you saying that,” she whispered. 

He moved over to her, pulling her into his side. “I’ll make it to Christmas.” She looked up at him with gleaming eyes, hope shining in them. “I promised you Christmas, I will give you a Christmas. You’re not going to be alone.” 

“You can’t promise something like that-” 

“I can and I just did.” She bit her lip and he sighed. “I’ll make it till Christmas, I swear.” 

She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him quickly. “You better keep that promise,” she whispered and he laughed. “I’ll stop. I’ll-I’ll stop.” 

“Thank you.” He kissed her chastely again before she rested her head on his shoulder. 

~

Betty sighed when they walked into their hotel room, dropping her bags on the ground. “I feel like I might crash onto the floor at any given moment.” 

“Oh, no!” Jughead exclaimed. “We must get the princess to bed.” She squealed when he picked her up, laughing as he hurried through the living area to the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed, groaning when he laid down beside her. 

“Oh,” he laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so much better than a plane seat.” She giggled, rolling into him and laying her head on his chest. “God, does your body hurt? My body is fucking killing me.” 

“I’m stiff but my body doesn’t hurt that bad,” she answered, picking her head up. “Are you okay?” Concern was laced in her tone and he nodded, coaxing her head back down to his chest. 

“I’m old, obviously.” She rolled her eyes and he smirked. “I’m fine. We were on a plane for 6 hours, we’re bound to hurt a little.” 

Betty sat up, looking down at him and sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You promise?” she asked, still worried. 

“Betts, I’m okay,” he chuckled, resting his arm on his forehead. “I’m tired, that’s all.” 

“Well,” she sighed, straddling his waist. “Like you’ve said, we’ve been on a plane all day so I think we could really use a shower and some dinner.” 

“Mm, good idea,” he agreed and she grinned, getting off of him to help him up. “I’m not a grandpa, I can sit up by myself.” 

“Yes,” she mumbled, linking her arm through his as they moved to the stairs. “And we’ll have your walker coming in the mail next week.” 

“Cruel,” he uttered, giving her an amused look. “You are truly cruel.” She chuckled, kissing him quickly. 

~

“Jug, stop singing and wash your hair,” Betty sighed, rubbing moisturizer over her leg. 

“I’m not—ouch! Fuck,” he cursed, picking up the bottle he knocked over. “I’ll stop.” 

She shook her head with a giggle, switching to the other. He turned off the water a few minutes later, stepping out of the shower and wiping his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist. He stepped over to her, picking her up and kissing her soundly. 

“The bottle didn’t hurt you too bad, huh?” she teased and he smirked, dropping her on the small wall that was placed between the bath and shower. 

She started to chew her lip, looking down at his chest as she started to blink rapidly. “Betts,” he whispered and she shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. 

“I’m okay,” she stated, her voice breaking. “I’m okay.” He pulled her into him and she sobbed, clutching to him. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no,” he whispered, picking her up and moving to the bench she was originally sitting on. He adjusted her so they were both more comfortable, starting to stroke her hair. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to be upset, I-I dumped a lot on you.” 

“I don’t get how you’re so okay with it,” she muttered, picking her head up to look at him. “You’re so content. I don’t… I don’t get it.”

“I’m not,” he breathed and she furrowed her brows. “I’m not content, I’m not happy with my diagnosis either. I’m just trying to take life as it comes, you know? I can die and-and I _will_ die, soon. And I know that’s all I’ve been telling you, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m not content and I’m-I’m not okay, and that’s fine. I’m okay with _that_. I’m okay with not being okay. I’m not okay with dying, but I’m okay with not knowing what’s going to happen a minute from now. Does that make sense?” 

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah, kinda.” 

“Okay,” he said and his voice was hushed as he wiped her face with his thumbs. “I love you, I meant that when I said it. It kills me to see you cry, love. You don’t understand how much it hurts.” 

She sniffled, breathing deeply. “I’m okay,” she said, swallowing thickly. “I’m okay.” 

“Good,” he sighed, kissing her quickly. “Dinner?” 

“On the balcony.” He nodded, giving her a small smile. “Can I have one of your shirts?” 

“I don’t care,” he whispered and she sighed. “Do you want to cry?” 

“Mm-hm,” she whimpered, tears filling her eyes. 

“Then cry,” he whispered, letting her bury her face in his neck. “I got you. I promise you, I got you.” 

~

Betty stood up from where she was sitting on the chair in their bedroom, moving over to her side of the bed. “I have questions,” she murmured quietly, kneeling on the bed next to Jughead. “Am I allowed to ask questions about you… you know?”

“Yes, Betts,” he answered. He set his book on his nightstand, turning back to her. “You don’t have to ask, ever.” 

She nodded, tucking hair behind her ear and chewing her lip. “When you, uh… you’re gonna-you’re gonna die somewhere here, right? Like you-you won’t make it home?” 

“Most likely,” he answered and she sighed. 

“So, what… what do I do?” Her eyes were questioning and wide. She was more confused now than she ever had been. “Like-Like your, uh, bod-body. You’ll be here, you won’t be home, how are you going to have a funeral?”

He shrugged, looking down at his hands for a moment. “You don’t… you don’t have to worry about any of that. I have…” He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “In my bag, there's contacts and whatever you need. Or you could cremate me here. Getting cremains sent back is way easier than a body.” 

“You want to be… cremated?” she asked, her eyes wide for a whole new reason. 

He shrugged, scrunching up his face. “I mean, no. But you have to deal with me when I die and I don’t want you to struggle.” 

“I don’t want to… do that.” He nodded and she let out a slow breath. “Who do you want at your funeral? If-If you want anyone in, uh, particular.”

“If you can find my sister, I-I…” He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “And you. I-I only care about you two. I don’t care who shows up, I don’t… I just want you two there.” 

She moved closer to him, kissing his cheek before laying against his side. “Who gets the trailer and all your stuff?” she asked after a moment. 

“You.” She picked her head up, looking at him like he had six heads. “Before we left, I went and I got a will. Since I inherited all of my dads shit, I got the trailer and his truck and I still had all of my stuff. So on my will, I gave it all to you. Everything I have, it’ll be yours—even money. It’s not much, but it’s all yours.” 

She sighed, moving into his lap and laying down on top of him. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, her eyes closed as she tried to absorb him. When it wouldn’t work, she snuggled her face into his chest, breathing him in. 

After a few minutes went by, she picked her up and cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered. “Sometimes, I don’t know how, but I love you.” 

He chuckled, holding her close as he kissed her slowly. She sagged into him, her hands threading through his hair as she pulled back with a deep exhale. 

Jughead kissed her hairline, inhaling. “Your hair smells good,” he commented. He began to slowly rub his hand over her shoulders thoughtlessly. 

She smiled, resting her head on his chest. She listened to his heart beat steadily, placing a gentle kiss there. 

After they had both gotten fairly sleepy, Jughead reached to switch off his lamp before rolling the two of them on the bed. Betty moved across it to turn off her lamp, coming back to him and laying down as close to him as possible. 

He just chuckled, shaking his head as he placed a sweet kiss on the crown of her head. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered and she gave him a squeeze. 

_December 1st_

Jughead sat up quickly in the bed, coughing into his hand. He looked at the blood in his palm, continuing to cough and his hands started to shake and shudder. 

“Jug?” Betty mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Jug—oh my god!” she screamed, getting out of bed. 

“Help,” he whispered shakily, blood dripping from his lips and into his hands. 

~

Betty watched with tears pooled in her eyes as Jughead spit blood into a bed pan before he fell back onto the bed weakly. She moved closer to the trauma room window, clutching his jacket tighter in her hands. 

The machine started to beep erratically and loudly. Her heart started to pound in her chest. 

“V-tach!” one of the nurses shouted. They put a mask over his mouth with a bag attached, squeezing it as they charged the defibrillator. Another nurse stepped towards him, starting CPR. 

“Clear!” a different nurse yelled and Betty gasped as his body bounced up off the table against the shock. “No change. Charge again.” 

“Jughead,” Betty breathed shakily, a tear sliding down her cheek. They shocked him again and a flatline appeared on the machine. “No.” 

“Try again,” a nurse said. 

They shocked him again.

His body jerked. 

The line stayed flat. 

The beeping continued. 

An ice cold chill filled the air. 

“No,” she whispered. 

The nurses all gave each other a look. The one doing CPR backed off, the one bagging did the same. 

“No.” she said firmly. 

A nurse sighed, switching off the monitor. 

“No!” she shouted, pounding on the window. “No, Jughead! Jughead! No!” 

She moved to the door and ignored the sound of nurses running towards her, others telling her she couldn’t go in there. 

“No!” she sobbed, shaking him. “Wake up. Wake up, you asshole! You don’t get to die! You’re not allowed to die! Wake up! Wake up! Jughead! No!” 

~

Betty sat up, gasping. She was breathing hard, panting and her chest heaved. 

Jughead groaned, rolling towards her. “Mm, Betts,” he moaned, his eyes still closed. “What are you doing? You okay?” 

She placed a hand on her chest, swallowing thickly. 

He put a hand on her thigh, adjusting on his pillow. “Betts,” he mumbled. 

She grasped his hand, squeezing. “I’m fine,” she breathed, swallowing again. She laid down, brushing his curls off of his forehead. 

He was half asleep, or more so completely at this point. He was breathing softly, a light snore starting to become evident. Shakily, she reached up to his chest and felt his heart beat under his fingertips. 

_It was just a dream_ , she told herself. _He’s okay_. 

She placed a gentle kiss to his lips and he groaned. “Mm, I’m tired, love. Not now, maybe in the morning.” She giggled, letting out a grateful breath as she pulled him down into her chest. “Mm,” he moaned, sighing. 

She kissed the top of his head, her breathing finally evening out.

He’s alive. 

He’s _still_ alive. 

Alive. 

He. 

Is. 

Alive. 

~

Jughead smirked, resting his head in his hand as he watched Betty for a moment. He brushed hair off of her face, kissing her cheek though it was more a brush of his lips against her skin. 

He carefully wriggled out of bed, slipping into his pajama pants. He tied them as he moved up the stairs to the bathroom, pushing open the door when he got there. 

He made sure the doors were shut before he turned towards the bath, turning it on and adjusting the water until it wasn’t scalding hot, but it was warm enough to be comfortable. He added soap to the water and watched as bubbles formed while the water rose. 

“Jughead!” 

He turned his head towards the stairs when he heard Betty’s panicked scream, hurrying down them. 

“Ju-Ju-Ju-Jug,” she stuttered shakily, sobbing when he wrapped his arms around her. 

“Hey,” he whispered, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Love, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” She cried into his chest and he kissed the crown of her head. “What’s wrong?” he asked after a moment.

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I-I don’t know,” she muttered, wiping her face. “I don’t know. I just… I had a bad dream las-last night and… I don’t know. I’m-I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t… I’m sorry-”

“You’re okay,” he breathed, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears. “You seem overwhelmed.” 

“I just can’t stop thinking about waking up…” She started to gasp and he pulled her into his chest. 

“Breathe, Betts,” he cooed. “Slow down. You have to slow down.” She started to breathe slowly and he nodded. “There you go,” he said in a hushed voice, tucking hair behind her ear. “Good girl.” He kissed her forehead, giving her a small smile. 

She let out a deep breath, letting her eyes fall closed. She reached up to hold his forearms, rubbing her thumbs over his wrists. 

“I started a bath,” he began. “Thought you could use it after last night.” 

“You weren’t awake, how do you… I was barely able to understand you.”

“I… was vaguely awake.” She giggled and his heart warmed, glad to see a (small) smile on her face. “I just kinda remember you seeming really upset before I passed out again.” 

“Will you get in with me?” she questioned and he nodded, taking her hand. 

He guided her up the stairs, helping her out of her shirt when they got to the bathroom. Her underwear followed and he turned off the water, helping her into the bath. He undressed and slipped in behind her. 

She sighed, resting back against him. “I’m sorry, Jug,” she began and he found her hands, threading his fingers through them. “I don’t know… I don’t know why I’m so upset. I-I thought I was fine, I thought I was-I was adjusting to… to being told… to the idea that you’re… you know, but I haven’t and I’m trying to. I really am Jug, but it’s hard and-and scary—it’s really scary. I… I can’t stop thinking about waking up and… you not…” She let out a breath and he inhaled and exhaled deeply. 

“I’ve had a lot longer to deal with this than you have. I told you… four days ago? I’ve-I’ve… I’ve known for two months. It’s a lot to take in,” he explained as he rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands. “You’re upset, it’s understandable, Betts. You’ll… you’ll calm down eventually, you’ll understand eventually, you’ll get it-”

“Eventually,” she finished. “How long is… eventually?” She looked over her shoulder at him and he shrugged. 

“E…ventually,” he strained and she sighed. “I have no idea how long you take to process-” 

“Do you remember when my grandma died?” she blurted and he nodded. “You-You went to the funeral with me because… I-I don’t know why you went with me.” 

“Um, you were scared,” he answered and she looked back and up at him. “So you asked your mom if I could come. You wouldn't let me leave your side, and-and I had to do everything with you. You thought that, uh, ghosts—old ghosts, people who have died _in_ the church, who, um, had their funerals in the church—you thought they would come and get you. You were terrified for… a long time.” 

“Keep talking,” she whispered and he swallowed thickly, clearing his throat. 

“I, um… you used to make me stay the night a lot after that.” She nodded, squeezing his hands. “You were so scared for… no reason. I mean, you had your reasons, but they were also kinda pointless when you think about it,” he chuckled and she giggled. “That funeral was weird. It was like… at a creepy church and it was-it was cold everywhere.” 

“It was really cold,” she laughed, sighing. 

“Betty,” he breathed after a few moments. She hummed and he cleared his throat. “I don’t want my funeral to happen in a church. Do it outside. And when I die, open a window if one’s not already open.” 

“You don’t believe in that stuff-”

“I believe in spirits and ghosts and demons and paranormal bullshit, but I don’t believe in heaven and-and hell and God and Satan and whoever the fuck those three… spirits, men? Whatever those things were.” He huffed and wiped a hand over his face. “I don’t… I don’t believe in the God shit, but for some reason… I believe in the dramatic, way over stretched psychic bullshit. It’s-It’s bullshit and any normal person knows it’s fake but-but-but what if it’s not? What if-What if when we die and a window _isn’t_ open, we’re just stuck? We’re just-We’re just there? I can’t… I have to sleep with windows open. I’m-I’m-I’m sorry, but I have to.” 

“Did you just think about this?” she asked softly, turning and straddling his waist. He swallowed thickly, nodding. “We can sleep with a window open—well, cracked. It’s… cold, so we have to compromise. And, um, I’ll make sure your funeral happens in a, uh… house or… or outside, if it’s warm enough.” 

“Thank you,” he breathed and she nodded, eyeing his lips. “You don’t have to do that anymore, you can just kiss me.” 

She laughed, cupping his face and kissing him slowly. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She let out a soft whimper, threading her fingers through his hair. 

He sunk down slightly in the bath, spreading his legs when she brushed herself over him. She let out a breath, doing it again and dropping her forehead against his. He held her hips, helping her steady herself before she slowly sunk down on him. 

She moaned and he squeezed his eyes closed. She let out a shuddering breath and kissed him again, moving over him. 

“The water,” Betty panted. “The floor-”

“Shh,” he coaxed and she moaned breathily. “Forget about it,” he grunted. 

~

Jughead wiped up the water on the floor, squeezing as much water out of the towel as he could. They soaked the floor and Betty was smart for worrying. They should probably avoid the bath next time. 

He draped the towels over the top of the shower, leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind himself. He moved downstairs, giving Betty a smile when he walked into the bedroom. 

“Are you planning on leaving bed today?” he teased, kissing her quickly before he climbed over her, sitting down. 

She shook her head, scrolling through movies on her computer. “I don’t have the energy to do anything yet. I feel drained,” she sighed. “Do you feel drained?”

“No,” he mumbled with a shake of his head. “Is it from this morning or… from thinking?” 

She shrugged, picking at a key. “Both,” she answered, looking up at him. “More from thinking.” 

“I’m sorry, love.” He pulled her into his side, kissing her temple. “It’s a lot, I know.” 

“Do you just ever…” She cut herself off, breathing deeply. “Do you ever regret not doing anything?” He shook his head and she furrowed her brows. “How?” 

“Betts, I don’t…” He sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “Okay, so, if I went with treatment, I most likely would have gotten chemo put _in_ my brain. Like, directly into my brain. But the tumor was already pretty big and… I doubt I would have even made it off the table. I know to you, this seems like I’m killing myself, but I’m not. I would have been killing myself if I had gotten treatment because that’s pretty much what it is. It’s just toxins telling your body to… it wouldn’t have been worth it, trust me.” 

“You wouldn’t have been here today?” she questioned and he shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I could have, but that doesn’t mean I’d be _here_. I could have been in a hospital or, um, I could be here, but I’d be weak and tired and wouldn’t have energy to do anything. Then again, I could have been dead. So really, I don’t know, but I’m not suffering. I’d be suffering if I went through with treatment. So no, I don’t regret not getting it.” 

She huffed, kneeling. “Even if they promised— _promised_ —and it was proven that treatment would have-would have given you a life beyond 18, it was proven that you could live into… into your thirties and you could have a family, you still wouldn’t have done it?” He shook his head slowly and she exhaled sharply. “Why?” she asked, her eyes confused and slightly angered. 

He shrugged, stammering for a moment. “I can’t have kids, Betty. I knew I couldn't have kids since I was 15. I’m sterile, I went through chemo already, I can’t change that. I mean, there’s the _slimmest_ chance that sperm production would… somehow start again, but I’d be the last person it’d happen to. I also have a cup somewhere out there but…” He sighed, shaking his head. 

“There was a time where I wanted a wife and-and I wanted kids and I wanted a house and I wanted a-a stable job with steady income and I was so _focused_ on not being my dad. Then I got cancer. 14. I was diagnosed with brain cancer—for the first time. When that happened, the thoughts went away. I watched… I watched a lot of _Grey’s Anatomy_ for no reason before, um, I met the neurosurgeon.” 

He cleared his throat, breathing deeply. “After that, I researched a lot of brain tumor shit and statistics and all of that. About 18,000 people die from brain tumors yearly. I thought I was done. That compared to watching TV shows and seeing all those people—even though they’re fake—die, I just decided to stop worrying about stuff I really couldn’t control. I could dream all I want, but that doesn’t mean I was going to get it—brain tumor or no brain tumor.”

She was watching and listening intently, her eyes glued to him like he was an interesting movie playing on TV.

He inhaled deeply, scrunching up his face. “Then I lived, I survived. It was common, but when you’re 15 and have a brain tumor, you think you’re done for. Then flash forward 3 years, I have the _deadliest_ brain tumor in the world and, um, everything that happened 3 years ago plays in my head. The surgeries, the treatments, the hospital stays, the, uh, watching your friend who talked to you everyday and sat next to you and made things easier… dies. And then, um, when you finally get over them dying, your new friend who was supposed to be going home for the first time in a while, slips into a coma and-and-and never wakes up and you go to her funeral—you’re second one in about three months—and she’s frail and tiny and-and littler that you’ve ever seen ‘cause she’s in this huge casket she doesn’t belong in.” 

“Oh, and, um, we can’t forget how, uh, you kinda briefly make friends with someone else and then I’m sure you can guess what happens to them, too. Kids… they’re strong but then these doctors make them weak and fragile and then the cancer spreads and spreads and… spreads.” He swallowed thickly and she let out a shaky breath. “You will never understand how many little kids I watched get wheeled out of their hospital rooms with sheets over their heads and how many parents I watched weep and scream and shout because they just got told their six year-old is dead.” 

She wiped her face, staring at her hands, no longer having the heart to look into his pained eyes. 

“You can think I’m selfish, I don’t care. But nothing you say to me, nothing you promise me is going to make me want treatment. No matter what I chose, it would have been a death sentence either way.” He sighed and she sniffled. 

“I need space,” she whispered, wiping her face. 

He breathed deeply, standing up out of the bed and walking out of the room. He squeezed his eyes closed after shutting the door, hearing her sob. He shouldn’t have said all of that. He needs to learn to shut up.

_December 2nd_

Jughead groaned when he was woken up to stumbling, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “What are you doing?” he asked groggily, squinting at Betty.

She was standing full dressed next to him on the couch, her brows furrowed. “Stop talking,” she ordered. He narrowed his eyes and hers ran over his body before she looked over at the stairs. “Stop looking at me.” 

“You’re wearing my shirt-”

“Ah!” she exclaimed and he turned, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m spending the day by myself. Don’t try to find me—un-unless I call the hotel but don’t!” He glanced at her, nodding. “Don’t look at me!” she shouted, stomping her foot. 

He looked away quickly, his arm on his forehead. “Are you mad at me?” 

“Why would I be mad at you?” she questioned. “That’s dramatic. I just want to be alone.”

“You were alone yesterday.” 

“Couples need space,” she stated firmly. 

He nodded, rubbing his face with his hand. “I agree.” He groaned, throwing the blanket off of his legs and standing up. “May I at least have a kiss before you run away all day?” 

She rolled her eyes jokingly, giggling before he kissed her quickly. “Okay, I want to go. I love you, bye.” She placed another peck to the corner of his mouth, grabbing her jacket off the back of a chair and putting it on as she left the hotel room in a haste. 

He sighed, sitting back down on the couch and yawning. What the hell was he supposed to do all day?

~

Jughead hissed through his teeth, sucking his thumb into his mouth for a moment. He glanced down at it, shaking it out. How the hell did he manage to pinch himself on a picture frame? Dumbass. 

He finished securing the back, turning it over and laughing. He put it in his suitcase buried under clothes so Betty wouldn’t find it. 

He was trying to figure out what to get Betty for Christmas because the holiday seemed fairly important to her. He had googled what girls like but he didn’t think any of it was something he was capable of getting. It was a lot of homemade shit and, well, he’d do it—if they were home. 

He glanced over at his carry on, sighing as he picked it up. He sat down on the chair in their room, pulling out his notebook and the pencil case. He cursed when he opened it and spilled all over the floor. 

“Goddamnit,” he mumbled under his breath. He dropped everything back into the overflowing pencil case, huffing. 

He flipped through the pages, dropping his carry on onto the floor when he found a blank one. He pulled out a pen, clicking it a few times before words started to flow out of him. 

He liked writing sometimes. It definitely wasn’t something he would pursue as a career. It was too time absorbent and he didn’t really want to stare at a computer screen all day. Well, when he had the option of choosing a career. 

Maybe he could write a book, be like Emily Dickinson. Her poems didn’t get published until _after_ she died. He could do that, avoiding fame. 

Ha, who’s he kidding? Who the hell would read a book written by a dying 18 year-old? Besides, he doesn’t need anymore people hating him when he dies. That’s probably, like, bad luck or something.

He adjusted in his seat, continuing to scribble on the page. 

~

Envelopes. 

“Envelopes,” he whispered, standing up out of the chair. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” He sunk back down, cradling his head in his hands. “God, fuck me.” He squeezed his eyes closed, cupping his ears and moaning as his headache intensified. He whimpered, his hands curling in his hair. 

He hadn’t taken his meds. He hadn’t showered. He hadn’t gotten dressed. He hadn’t done anything besides brush his teeth. How the hell had he forgotten to do anything?

It was almost 5 pm. He had been writing since 9 am. How did he have _that much_ to say to her? It made no sense.

When the buzzing and ringing and pain simmered down, he forced himself up. He walked into the living room, swallowing thickly. He takes it now and risks screwing up his schedule. He could deal. 

“Envelopes,” he whispered again. He needs envelopes. 

He picked up his pants off of the ground, stumbling as he jumped into them. He pulled on his sweatshirt next along with socks. His wallet was waiting on the kitchen counter and he grabbed it as he pushed on shoes, leaving the hotel. He was officially disgusting. 

~

Betty sighed deeply, closing the hotel door with her foot. She slipped out of her shoes, walking back to the bedroom and dropping her bags on the floor. She splurged… way too much. 

She peeled off her coat and dropped it on the floor along with them. She stripped as she walked up the stairs, shimming out of her underwear before she stepped into the shower. 

Jughead flinched and tensed when she wrapped her arms around his waist, but relaxed a moment later. “Hi,” he mumbled. He turned to face her, kissing her chastely. “You okay?” 

“I spent a lot of money,” she confessed, a slight wince on her face. “A lot of money,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest. 

“On… what?” he asked, amusement evident in his voice. He was trying not to grin. 

She sighed, shrugging. “Lingerie, I think. I mean, I think some of it’s pajamas and then… but it’s also kinda like just bras and underwear. I thought it was all really pretty… so I bought it. But…” She lowered her voice giving him a shocked but disgusted look. “But one is like… open down-down there. How do you wear that? And-And why did I buy it? And what were they thinking when I bought it? They had to have known, they work there!”

He furrowed his brows, questioning, “It’s… open?”

“I know you know what I mean!” she shouted, huffing and dropping her head back down on his chest. “Stop thinking about it,” she muttered and he clenched his jaw.

“I-I can’t.” She huffed, turning him around and hugging his back, resting her cheek on his shoulder blade. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

She sighed, squeezing him. “Have you eaten at all today?” she asked and he winced.

“Can you tell I haven’t eaten today?”

“Jughead!” she exclaimed, looking around him and giving him a disappointed look. “Have you taken your meds?” He smiled weakly and she groaned. “Jughead! I’m ordering room service and you're eating.” He nodded, turning the water off. “I can’t believe you,” she said under her breath. 

“I forgot,” he uttered, wrapping his towel around his waist. “You look really pretty.” 

“Shut up,” she gritted and he frowned. “I’m disappointed and you telling me I’m pretty is not going to change that. I know you know better and you can handle me not being with you all day for one day. I am not your mom, I shouldn’t have to treat you like a child.” 

He huffed, following her out of the bathroom. He took the clothes she threw at him when they got into the bedroom, pulling them on quickly. “I’ll do better tomorrow,” he promised when she stepped over to him. 

He gave her a small smile and she sighed, cupping his chin and kissing him slowly. Neither hinted at more. “You better,” she murmured, kissing him again and giggling when he deepened it. “You need to eat!” she squealed. 

“Eh, that can wait. I’d rather do this.” She groaned, letting him lay her down on the bed. 

He tugged off her towel before pulling off his clothes and she laughed, “You just got dressed for no reason.”

“You’re worth it,” he whispered and she blushed as he kissed her roughly, wrapping her legs around his waist. 

He slipped his fingers into her folds and she let out a breath. “Jug,” she moaned, lifting her hips towards his hand. She moaned when he started to gently rub her clit, her hand clenching in his hair. 

He moved her onto her stomach, helping her raise up onto her knees. She buried her face in a pillow when he sucked her clit into his mouth, clenching her fists as she moaned. 

He continued until she was pushed back into his face, moaning loudly. “Jug,” she panted, her hands clenching again. “I think-I think I’m going to-” She cut herself off with a moan and he pulled his hand and mouth away. “No,” she whined, wriggling. 

She moved her hand to touch herself, gasping when he gripped her wrist roughly, pulling it behind her back. “I didn’t say anything about touching yourself, did I?” he said low in her ear and she whimpered, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.” 

He reached his hand around her front, cupping her breast as he thrusted into her. She moaned, pushing back against him. “Yes,” she whimpered, letting out a sharp breath. “Yes, yes, yes.” 

His hand moved up and wrapped around her throat like he had in Venice. She gasped, but not because she couldn’t breathe. She leaned into the touch and he squeezed gently, letting go quickly like he was scared to hurt her. He was being careful but you could feel his tension, his need to be rough simmering out of him. 

She groaned when his other arm slipped around her, his fingers started to rub her clit. “Right there!” she screamed loudly. “Yes, yes, ye-yes!” 

He squeezed her throat lightly as she came, thrusting a few emptying thrusts into her before he rested his forehead on her shoulder blade. She wilted down into the bed and he groaned, slipping out of her and rolling onto his side. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he stared at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have… I don’t know… I don’t know where that came from. It kind of just-just happened. I’m sorry.” 

Betty rolled into Jughead’s side, resting her head on his chest. “You’re okay, Jug.” He chewed his lip and she moved her head back to look at him. “You didn’t hurt me, I’m fine.”

“Really?” he breathed, giving her a questioning look. She nodded slowly, giving him a small smile. 

“Can we go to sleep now?” she asked, breathing deeply. “I’m really tired.” 

He nodded, wrapping his arms around her with a sigh. 

_December 3rd_

Betty groaned, rolling over in the bed. She placed her hand on Jughead’s chest, pulling it away quickly when she couldn’t feel his heart beating or his breathing. 

“Jug,” she mumbled, shaking him. “Jughead? Jughead, wake up. Jughead!” 

He squinted at her, groaning. “What?” he breathed, rolling onto his side.

She let out a shuddering breath, placing a hand over her chest. Her heart was pounding and her breathing was labored. 

“Betty,” he muttered and she grabbed his shirt off of the floor, pulling it on before hurrying out of the bedroom. He groaned, wiping his hands over his face. 

He got out of bed, pulling on boxers as he walked upstairs. Betty was sobbing on the bathroom floor, her head in her hands as she cried. He sighed, slowly sitting down next to her. 

“What happened?” he asked, stifling a yawn as he rubbed his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head quickly, leaning on his shoulder. “Why did you… come to the bathroom?” 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, swallowing thickly. “You can’t do that,” she whispered, looking over at him. “You can’t do that.” 

“Can’t do… what? What-What did I do?” he questioned, his look confused. What the hell was she talking about?

“You-You wouldn’t wake up and-and-and I couldn’t feel your breathing or your-your heart.” She shuddered and he pulled her into his lap. “You can’t do that.” 

“I’m… I’m-I’m sorry.” She sniffled and he wiped her face. “I didn’t know I did that.” She cried softly into his shoulder and he rubbed a hand soothingly over her back. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his brows knitted together. “It’s okay.” 

They sat there for long moments before she sat up, wiping her face. “I want to go back to bed,” she said quietly and he focused on her neck. “What?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw. “I shouldn’t have done it,” he mumbled and she furrowed her brows. 

She stood up, stepping over to the mirror. “Oh. Jug, it’s just red. It’ll be gone in the morning and I’m fine, like I said earlier. Jughead, it’s okay. It didn’t hurt, it… it made things more, um, in-in-intense. And that's all I’m going to say about it. Come on.” 

She held out her hand, raising a brow. He took it with a sigh, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and she gave him a pointed look. “I heard you, I know what you said, but what if… it isn’t just red? What if you bruise?” 

“Trust me, Jug. If it was going to bruise, it would have happened a while ago.” She moved into the bedroom, getting in bed. “You’ve done it before, right? You-You should know that,” she mumbled, uncertain. “You’ve done that before, right, Jug?” 

He shrugged, slowly getting back in the bed. “No,” he uttered. “Not that I know of.” 

“So, what? You look at me and think you need to choke me?” she questioned, suddenly upset. “You wanted to choke me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, huffing. “No, I didn’t want to choke you, it just all kinda happened. It’s not really… I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to _choke_ you. If I wanted to do that, I would press down and I wouldn’t… I wasn’t trying to hurt you and I would have stopped if you wanted me to. Did you want me to?” 

She shrugged and chewed her lip. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Not-Not really, no.” 

“So why are you mad at me about it now?” he questioned and she clenched her jaw. 

“I want to go to sleep,” she stated, laying down on her side facing the door. 

“Betty,” he sighed, turning on his light. “Tell me.” 

She sighed, rolling onto her back. “It was kinda… surprising and it’s all just hitting me now. I don’t mean to get upset, I just… there’s always so much going on in my head all the time and it’s exhausting. It gets worse when I try to sleep and it, like, sends me into overdrive and I think about all these terrible things and then I wake up going nuts.” 

“That’s my fault,” he muttered and she shook her head. “You can say no, but you now I, at the very least, have a part to it. This all started when I told you about my GBM. You’ve been panicked and afraid and worried about me ever since.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she said in a hushed voice. “Jug, I love you. And yes, I am worried about your… but I don’t blame you for this. I think I’m working myself up too much, stressing myself out.” 

“Why don’t we go to dinner tomorrow night. We have yet to do anything together and I think we need to get out of this hotel room. We can walk around and stuff in the morning. How does that sound?” He gave her a soft look, his eyes somber as he tucked hair behind her ear. 

She nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Okay,” he breathed, laying down and pulling her into him. “We’ll do that.” She smiled tinily, kissing him quickly before she rested her head on his chest. 

~

“Kiss me and tell me you love me,” Betty stated, draping her arms over Jughead’s shoulders. 

He looked up from his shirt to her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “That sounds vaguely sexual,” he commented and she huffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Do it,” she demanded. “Please.” she added with a grin. 

He kissed her quickly, muttering, “I love you.” 

She kissed him again, ruffling his hair. “Thank you. Put on your shirt, I’m ready to go.” 

“Of course you’re ready to go,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a smirk. He stepped out into the living room, raising his brow at Betty. “What are you doing?” 

She turned slowly, her arms out at her sides to steady herself. “I can balance books on my head,” she whispered as if the words would make the said books fall. She took them off, giggling. “I could be a princess.” 

“Ah yes,” he commented, tucking his hands in his pockets as he walked over to her. “Princess Elizabeth of Riverdale. Fitting.” 

She grinned, cupping his cheeks. “You could be my prince,” she said, kissing him. 

“I think parents choose who the princess marries,” he mumbled with narrowed eyes. 

“Not in my castle,” she said sternly and they laughed. “Okay! We have things to see, we have to go!” 

“Hey,” he said, his hands up by his head in a surrender. “You got us talking about imaginary castles, not me.” She frowned and he laughed. “I’m sorry, I love you.” He kissed her forehead, chuckling as he walked out of the hotel. 

~

“Can you believe that a month ago you hated me and I was forcing myself on you?” Betty asked in amazement, her eyes shining. 

Jughead furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue. “I didn’t hate you,” he mumbled and she shrugged. 

“You didn’t hide it,” she sighed, linking her arm through his. “I know you did. And it’s okay, I was really pushy and… annoying, I’ll admit to it. I would probably hate myself, too. But now you say you love me-” 

“I do,” he interrupted, giving her a pointed look and stopping their gait. “I love you, Betty. I-I mean that.” 

“I know,” she giggled, starting their walk again. “It’s kinda crazy. You went from hating me to-to loving me. And I went from… trying to be your friend to loving you too.” 

“I have to tell you a secret,” he said in a hushed voice, pulling her to the side. He waved a finger towards himself and she leaned forward, watching him closely. “That’s how most relationships start.” 

“Oh!” she huffed, smacking his shoulder. “Ass.” He winked and she rolled her eyes. “You’re mean,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “Well, you’re not mean—am I being a brat?” 

“No,” he answered, tucking his hands in his pockets. “But if you’re asking, then maybe you shouldn’t act like that.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him and he kissed her quickly, laughing when a grin started to cover her face. “That’s cheating!” she exclaimed in fake anger. 

They both laughed and he kissed her again, grinning into it. Betty threw her head back as she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck while his went around her waist. He watched her in adoration, his heart burning his chest for her. 

“I love you,” he stated and she stopped laughing. 

She brushed hair off of his forehead, nodding. “I know,” she muttered. “I love you, too.” He smiled, sighing. “Why’d you just… say that? You never just say that.” 

“I know I don’t,” he uttered regretfully. “I just wanted to say it.” 

She sighed, giggling and kissing him quickly. She smoothed her thumbs over his cheekbones, partially raising a brow. “Are you okay?” she asked in a hushed voice. 

He nodded and she narrowed her eyes. “I promise, I’m fine. If I wasn’t, I would tell you.” 

“I’m only saying fine because we have places to be.” He chuckled and she stepped away, holding out her hand. “Come on! Places to see!” She skipped off and he trailed along, breathing deeply. 

His hands clenched into fists in his pants pockets and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Betty had caught the clipped noise, stopping and turning towards him. 

He was crouching on the ground next to the building beside them, cradling his head as he breathed heavily and visibly fought back moans. 

She stepped over to him, placing a shaking hand on his shoulder. “Jug?” she questioned in a soft whisper. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he cracked, exhaling deeply. “I just need a minute.” 

“Are you sure-”

“Betty!” he shouted and she froze. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, holding her hands against her chest. “I’m sorry.” 

He groaned for a whole new reason, dropping his forehead against his palms. “Now everyone probably thinks I’m an ass,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

Betty sunk down onto her bottom next to him, still mumbling, “I’m sorry.” 

“Betty, please be quiet,” he whispered, glancing over at her. “And stop saying you’re sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Sorry. Fuck, um, I’m-I’m sor—yes.” He nodded, dropping his head back against the building. “What happened?” she asked, her voice still soft. 

“Headache,” he murmured. 

“They’re that bad?”

He sighed, nodding. “They’re… that bad.” 

She gave him a sorry look, hugging his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jug. And I know I’m not supposed to-”

“You’re okay, love,” he chuckled, squeezing her hand. “I’m sorry, I-I apologize for yelling. You… You can’t talk to me when… that happens. And I know you don’t know that so I don’t blame you, but next time, please.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she mumbled, nodding. “I promise. I should have… I should have put two-and-two together but I… well, I’ve never seen you do that before so I kinda thought that maybe something bad had happened to you. Not that your headache wasn’t bad, it looked terrible, but, like, I thought you may have gotten… I don’t know, hit or something. And that would have been… well, it would have been really scary-” 

“Stop talking,” he interrupted and she winced.

“I… thought about doing that a long time ago,” she whispered, sighing. “Can we go to the museum now?” 

He nodded, laughing. “Yes.” 

She squealed, clapping her hands as she stood up. “Come on! Come on!” 

~

“I had a good day today,” Betty started, looking over at Jughead who glanced at her with a tiny smile. “I wasn’t… trying to figure out ways to fight the inevitable, I wasn’t trying to forget it, I wasn’t… it was just us for the first time since we’ve been here and it was really nice.” She sighed, tracing the bottom hem of her dress. 

She had fallen silent for a moment before inhaling sharply, continuing. “I never really… realized how easy it could be if I’d just… stop caring. Not that I don’t care about you—I do care about you, I love you. I mean, the tumor. I can’t care about it more than you do and… I don’t know, you seem to forget about it.”

“I live with it everyday. I haven’t forgotten about it,” he murmured and she let out a hushed giggle. “Like I said, I live with it. That’s all you can do: live with it.” 

“I just wish there was something, you know?” she questioned, giving him a somber look. He sighed, moving his eyes to the ground. “Something that could help, something that could… that could keep you here and it would be guaranteed and we’d… we’d have a future. I just wish there was something, and I feel so useless sometimes-”

“Betty,” he cut in and she let out a breath, swallowing thickly. “You are not useless. I would have… most certainly not been here right now if I didn’t have you. Yeah, I hated the idea of having you around at first, but you grew on me and… god, I love you, I really do and I hate it. I don’t want to love you,” he whispered and she frowned. 

“It’s… I can’t even say it’s not you. I want to love you, but I don’t want to be dying and loving you and… and that’s how it is. In the end, it’s just more suffering on you while I get the easy way out.” 

She pouted, breathing deeply. “We need to… agree on something,” she stated, swallowing thickly. “No more… talking about you dying. No more talking about your tumor—unless it has to be brought up, like if you have a headache. But no more. No more of that because we always get gloomy and nasty and it ruins both of our moods. No more?” 

She bit her lip, holding out her pinkie. He scoffed, linking his pinkie with hers. “No more,” he echoed and she grinned, smiling as she placed a quick peck on his lips. 

“I’m tired,” she whined a moment later, resting her head on his shoulder. “I think we should go back to the hotel and put on _The Polar Express_ and go to sleep.” 

“Hm,” he hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I think we should do that.” 

She squealed, kissing his cheek. She stood up and held out her hand, narrowing her eyes when he didn’t budge. “I’ve said it, like, 20 times today,” she complained, raising a brow.

“Eh,” he breathed, hissing through his teeth as he leaned back against the bench. “I don’t know. It’s just not… what did you say?” She frowned jokingly, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m serious. I have no idea what you’ve been saying. It has completely slipped my mind.”

She huffed, watching him for one more minute before giggling, “Come on.” 

“Ah, there it is.” He stood and she laughed, rolling her eyes. 

“You are so dumb sometimes,” she muttered with a laugh and he smirked. 

He felt water drip onto his hand and he furrowed his brows, looking up into his sky. He wiped the back of his hand on his thigh and shook his head. Phantom. 

When Betty froze and touched the top of her head, he froze. Maybe it wasn't a phantom. “Oh,” she exclaimed, touching another spot on her head. “Oh my god!” she half shouted, half laughed as rain started to come down faster and faster from the sky. 

She looked back at him with a laugh and he started to laugh. Soon, they were laughing like toddlers in the middle of the sidewalk and people were giving the odd looks left and right, trying to dodge the rain. 

Betty tilted her head back and opened her hands up towards the sky in a shrug. She giggled before she shivered, throwing her arms around his shoulders. 

“You’re freezing,” he mumbled against her lips when she interrupted him with a kiss. 

“I’m fine,” she answered, bouncing. “I’m okay-kay.” She shivered again and he shook his head. 

“You’re freezing,” he repeated and she groaned, wiping wet hair off her face and rubbing her arms. He took off his jacket (even though it was just as wet as she was) and put it around her shoulders. 

“It probably won’t help much but we gotta get back to the hotel,” he said in a shout as the rain came down even harder. 

“Hold on!” she yelled when he started to walk away. He wiped a hand over his face, turning to face her. “Kiss me.” 

“Betty, no-”

“Kiss me,” she repeated louder. 

“Your lips are going to be blue soon! I am not going to kiss-”

“Kiss me!” 

“I’m not-”

“Kiss me!” He huffed angrily, wiping his face again. “Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me! Please, kis-”

He cupped her face, crashing his lips down onto hers. His brows furrowed and heat swarmed the two of them. She gripped his arms, exhaling deeply when they pulled apart.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he rubbed her arms quickly when she shivered. “We-We can go.” 

~

“Why do you suddenly look very tall?” Betty asked, looking up at Jughead and running her eyes up and down his body. “Why are you suddenly so tall?” She stood next to him, taking her hand and placing it at the top of her head. She laid it flat and moved it until it hit his upper shoulder, shaking her head. 

“No. No, you grew. I specifically remember being here.” She placed her hand at the very top of his shoulder. “You grew.”

“What if you shrunk?” he questioned, squeezing a small amount of shampoo into his hand. 

“That’s not nice!” she exclaimed, glancing down at her hands. “Have I shrunk?” she whispered, leaning against the shower wall. 

“Come on,” he chuckled as he pulled her back towards him, putting some of her shampoo into the palm of his hand. “Even if you did shrink, no one will notice.” 

“But I’m 17! We don’t start shrinking until our 30s to 70s! I don’t want to have premature shrinkage!” she yelped in almost fear and he bursted into laughter, throwing his head back. “Jughead, I’m serious! This is serious!” He clutched his sides, laughing harder. “I am never telling you another thing again,” she grumbled. 

He chuckled, grabbing her hips and pulling her back into him. “I’m sorry,” he panted, snickering and placing a kiss to her cheek. “But that was the cutest rant you've gone on _and_ it just so happened to also be the funniest.”

“That wasn’t a rant,” she mumbled, looking over her shoulder and kissing him. “Being afraid of shrinking is a real thing. Did you know by the time we’re 80, most men have lost 2 inches while most women have lost 3?” 

“2 inches? Seriously?” he questioned. “Damn. By the time you’re 90, you’ll be, like, 5’0”.”

“Asshole,” she laughed, smacking his shoulder playfully and he chuckled. “I am 5’6” now—or at least I _was_.” 

“My apologies,” he muttered. “5’2”.” She rolled her eyes, turning around to face him. 

She held the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him slowly. He squeezed her hips, hauling her into him and she draped her arms over his shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair. 

She pulled back, looking in his eyes as she murmured, “I love you.” 

He smiled, kissing her forehead. “I love you too,” he whispered, smoothing her hair out of her face. “Let's finish up and go watch your movie.” She nodded in agreement, kissing the tip of his nose causing him to grin boyishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m not sure if any of y’all were wondering when we start shrinking, but now you know!!! and it might also be one of the oddest things i’ve had to google for a fic. 
> 
> on another note, i can’t believe there is only one chapter left!!! it seems like this fic has gone by in a blink and i’m glad so many of you are enjoying it. i actually just went through the last chapter not that long ago and added some things. it’s definitely on the sadder side, but it also might be one of my favorite chapters from this fic. 
> 
> okay!! i don’t want to give too much away but i’m so excited for y’all to read it!!! hopefully it will be up sooner than other chapters, although it all depends on how busy i am.
> 
> thank you for all your kudos and comments!!! they are greatly appreciated and never go unnoticed even if i don’t respond. 
> 
> tumblr: ultravioletviolet
> 
> edit: omg! i just found out i was nominated for a BFFA! i didn't even know my name was involved! thank you all so much for whoever made that happen. never in a million years did I expect to be nominated. i guess more updates to come? i'm not sure, but I'm so glad my work is enjoyed enough to be nominated for something like this!


	10. Death and All of His Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please focus on the archive warnings for this one. I’ve never written a fic like this before, so comments and any help y’all have is greatly appreciated (as well as kudos).

_December 13th_

“Having a cold the whole time while we were in Greece was not ideal,” Betty complained, laying down next to Jughead after she zipped her suitcase closed. “It was pretty, but I felt horrible.” 

“Yes, and then you decided to give it to me.” 

She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “You’re the one who just _had_ to kiss me,” she teased and he chuckled, kissing her temple. She rolled over and turned off her bedside lamp and he pulled her back into his chest. “Do you think they have snow in Switzerland?” she questioned, toying with his hand. 

“They might,” he responded groggily, already half asleep. 

“I mean, it’s an alpine village so it’s gotta have snow, right?” She furrowed her brows, sighing. “I’m sure it's beautiful without snow, the pictures alone we’re very pretty and just imagine that in person. It has to be gorgeous-”

“Betty, please,” he groaned. “I’m tired and I know you are too. We can discuss this on the plane, how does that sound?” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “But… do you think there’s snow?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“I think there’s snow,” he answered, squinting. She smiled wide, kissing him quickly. 

_December 14th_

Jughead opened the door to their hotel room, smiling as he watched Betty bounce around the room, singing a song he didn’t know the name to at the top of her lungs. Her phone was clutched tight in her right hand and the wires on her headphones moved up and down with her.

She smiled when she saw him, skipping over to him and kissing him quickly. Afterwards, she whispered, “Hi,” before skipping away. She pulled out her headphones when she was back at the bed, breathing heavily. “Where’d you go?” she questioned through a pant. 

“I went and got coffee and donuts, thought we need it to wake up but it looks like you took care of that.” He flashed the bag and cup holder and she rolled her eyes. “You can really sing, you know that?” 

“Shut up,” she mumbled, taking the cup of coffee he held out to her. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek, taking a donut out of the bag. 

~

“How long is this flight?” Jughead asked, his voice hushed as he leaned towards Betty. 

She weighed the idea, raising a shoulder. “A little longer than 3 hours. But they’re an hour behind so… it’s 11 now and it'll be 1 when we get there instead of 2.” He nodded, knitting his brows together. “Stop acting confused, I know you understand.” He snickered and she shook her head incredulously, sighing. “How do you feel today?” she questioned and he clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” he answered, looking down at his lap. She gave him a pointed look and he adjusted in his seat. “I’m fine. Just… a little tired, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It actually can-”

“Don’t,” he gritted out, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t you start pointing at the fact… I’m not dying, not yet. Just because… most people get really… I’m not dying!” 

“Okay,” she said softly, rubbing a hand down his arm. He looked away from her and out the window, his jaw clenched. “You’ve been drinking a lot of coffee-”

“Drop it. For once in your life, drop it!” he shouted and she exhaled slowly, holding eye contact with him. “Stop trying to be my doctor, just be my fucking girlfriend. Jesus Christ, I’m not going to tell you everything I feel. I had a seizure the other day, what does that mean, Betty? Does that mean I’m dying? I woke up gasping last night, does that mean I’m dying? Tell me. What are the signs? What are the signs of death?” 

She watched him with pained eyes and he nodded. 

“Exactly,” he muttered. “You don’t fucking know, so shut up.” 

He rested his cheek on his fist and she looked down at her lap. After a few minutes she whispered, “Agitation can be a sign-” 

“Oh my god,” he groaned under his breath. “You are relentless. You don’t give up, do you?” 

“You’re scared,” she murmured, looking over at him. 

“I’m not scared, why the hell would I be scared?” 

“It’s why you get mean, and-and defensive.” He shook his head, staring out the window to avoid her gaze. “You’re afraid of what it’s like. You’re afraid, you’re scared to die-”

“Why is it your right to tell me that I’m scared to die?”

“It’s okay to be afraid. A lot of people are afraid of death. You can want to die, you can want to end your suffering but it doesn’t mean that there’s no part of you that’s afraid. You’re entitled to being afraid, and you’re entitled to being upset, but you’re hurting people, Jughead.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head. 

“That’s when you have to stop being a bitch and you have to give the people who love you time to be afraid too. I’m allowed to tell you signs if it helps me. It helps me to speak about it, but you won’t let me! I’m scared too,” she said her voice breaking. “I’m scared too,” she whispered weakly and he looked at her with a hurt expression. 

He swallowed thickly when they glanced away from each other, his stomach in his throat. 

~

Betty and Jughead had gone their separate ways after arriving at the hotel, each deciding to roam the streets by themselves to cool off. They had been in one spot right next to each other for too long. That was agonizing enough. They needed time apart. 

She hadn’t lasted long outside though. It had gotten cold so she went back to the hotel to stay warm and to wait for Jughead. He would come back at some point. 

She knew he was dying, she knew he was getting worse. He knew all of this, too. She could tell, and she did know the signs. As her grandmother's condition worsened when she was younger, all she did was sleep and she would get upset easily—like Jughead. 

Jughead had also had a seizure last week, and she had wanted to call 9-1-1. With a brain tumor, she doesn’t think a seizure is something that shouldn’t worry you. But he had insisted he was fine and distracted her with sex. 

That was his new thing. Sex. Well, distracting her with sex. When she did something he didn’t like or something that was upsetting him, he’d kiss her until she forgot what she was talking about and then take her to bed or the shower or he’d just start doing whatever the hell he wanted to her right where they were. 

Of course, she didn’t mind and it was always mind blowing, but she needed to talk. He never let her talk and now that she could tell he didn’t have a ton of time, she _needed_ to talk. She needed to understand what was happening with him. 

Then again, she could see why he gets uptight. She gets a little too into it. She asks questions he’s avoiding. She questions his clipped answers. She over analyzes his yawns and his grumbles. They agreed to not talk about it in Spain, but that hadn’t lasted long. They had gotten sick, then he had started to get drained from simple tasks. 

It was hard to watch. They may both be taking what’s happening way out of proportion and he could be fine, but when the signs point to death, it’s hard to convince yourself it’s anything but that. 

~

Around 6 o’clock, Jughead stepped into the hotel. He dropped his backpack on the couch, looking out the window that looked onto the balcony. Betty was sitting outside with her chin resting on her knee, her coat wrapped around herself. She had to be freezing, it was barely 30 degrees outside. 

He picked up his suitcase and set it on the bed, unzipping it and flipping it open. He sniffled as he dug through his clothes, pulling out one of the wrapped items from the bottom. He tossed it aside and set his bag down on the floor, not bothering to zip it shut again. 

On his way out, he picked her hat up off of one of the chairs in the room, stepping out onto the balcony. He cleared his throat and she followed him with her eyes as he stepped over to her. She let him put the hat on her, not mirroring the small smile he gave her.

He sighed deeply, straddling the chair beside her and resting his arms against the back of it. “I’m sorry,” he started and she rolled her eyes, looking away from him. “You’re right, I am scared and I don’t know how to act. How are you supposed to act when you know you’re dying?” he chuckled and her face stayed blank. “Yeah, okay, that wasn’t funny.” 

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “Here,” he whispered, holding the gift out towards her. She looked from the gift to him then back to the gift. “I was going to wait until Christmas but… I don’t know. I’m sorry isn’t enough and I’m not trying to, like, buy you back. I thought you might… like it.” 

She shifted, setting her feet on the ground and taking the small item. “What is it?” she asked softly, furrowing her brows. 

“Open it,” he whispered and she sighed. 

She carefully tore the paper open, looking even more confused when she was met with the back of a picture frame. She turned it over, a small smile appearing on her face. “Where did you find this?” she laughed.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was talking to your mom about what I could do for you for Christmas because I’ve never had someone to celebrate with before and… she sent me that. She said you had it framed when you were younger.” 

“Yeah, I-I did,” she giggled, shaking her head. “It was our first Halloween that went out together. I… we were pirates.” 

“I was quite shocked you agreed with me about that,” he murmured and she laughed. 

“Did she send it to you?” she asked, still staring down at the picture of the two of them. 

He shook his head, feeling better now that she was smiling. “She took a picture of the picture then I printed it. I got a frame for it when we were in Madrid.” 

She set the frame down carefully and stood, cupping his cheeks. Her hands felt like ice. “I’m still a little upset with you for what you did,” she explained and he nodded. “But thank you, I love it. I have no clue what I did with the frame I had, I don’t even think I was the one to do anything with the frame.”

“Veronica?” he questioned and she could hear the faint upset lilt in his voice.

“Possibly,” she muttered. “But I’m not sure. It… disappeared one day. But now I have a new one,” she giggled and he smirked. She kissed him quickly, sighing. “Where’d you go?” 

He shrugged, standing up and fixing his chair as he followed Betty inside. “Walked around, stopped at a restaurant, diner thing for dinner. Afterwards, I walked around some more before I came back here.” She nodded, draping her coat on a chair. “Where’d you go?” he questioned, sitting down at the foot of the bed. 

“Oh, uh, nowhere,” she said with a shrug. “Well, I walked for a little, but I ended up back here quickly. It was really cold and I didn’t have my jacket and only had your sweatshirt so it was better I came back.” 

“Have you eaten?” he asked with a raised brow. She nodded, raising the corner of her mouth. “Okay, well, I’m gonna to take a shower then I’ll come to bed.” He looked between the bed and the couch. “Do-Do you want me to, uh-”

“Yes, Jug. I’m not going to kick you to the curb, promise.” She kissed him quickly and he stood with a groan, walking into the bathroom. 

_December 18th_

Jughead sat up in bed quickly with a shuddering gasp, groaning as he wrapped a hand around his throat. He breathed heavily, inhaling sharply when Betty touched his arm. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, her brows furrowed. 

He took in a slow deep breath, nodding. “What day is it?” he questioned, getting up out of bed. 

“The 18th,” she whispered, confused. She adjusted the sheet around her lap before bringing her knees up and hugging them. “Jug, are you sure you’re-”

“I’m great, I’m good.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He rubbed his eyes and pushed his hands through his hair. He looked around the room and blinked, his vision blurry. 

“Jug,” Betty whispered, scanning her eyes over his head. “Are you sure you’re okay? You feel fine?”

He shook his head, sighing. “I’m-I’m fine,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “I just… a dream shook me up, I think.” 

“Well, what was it about?”

He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was about, it was dark and cold. He shivered a little at the thought. 

“Are you cold?” Betty asked, glancing around the room. “I can close the window-”

“No, no. I’m fine, really. Come shower with me.” he offered as he stood up out of the bed. 

“Jug, we did that most of the night,” she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“I could never tire of you,” he confessed, his face serious. 

She rolled her eyes, laying back on the bed and giggling. “Such a flirt,” she teased. “You have to carry me to get me out of this bed.” 

He moved over to her, picking her up swiftly. She giggled and pulled his face to hers, their lips meeting in a searing kiss. She whimpered softly into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair. 

He dropped her down on the bathroom counter, the two of them tugging at each other’s clothes until they were both bare. He carried her into the shower with him and turned on the water, struggling to adjust it as he mouthed at her neck. 

The water sprayed down over his back, her hand curling. Her nails dug into his shoulder and she breathed heavily, whimpering softly when he grazed his teeth over her nipple. 

“Jug, touch me,” she panted and he moved his hand between them, starting to rub tight circles over her clit. 

“Like that?” he mumbled into her neck, moving down to nip at her collarbone. 

“Yes,” she moaned, thrusting up towards his hand. “Yes, yes. Just like that.” She groaned and buried her face in his neck when he slipped two fingers inside of her, her breath coming out in a breathy, strangled moan. She dropped her head back against the shower wall, rocking into his hand. “Oh my god,” she whimpered, sobbing when his thumb started to rub her clit. “Yes, Jug!” 

“Shh,” he coaxed in her ear, kissing her in an attempt to silence her but her moan only bursted out of her chest and her head was back against the wall. 

Her hands clawed at his shoulders looking for a grounding, her legs tightening around his waist. She panted, moaning loudly. “Oh! Yes, yes, ye-yes-yes!” she cried, her legs tightening further. His fingers curled as she came, clenching on his hand. She became a deadweight in his arms a few moments later, her body going limp. “How the hell do you do that?” she breathed, kissing over his neck. 

“Lots of practice,” he joked with a smirk. He kissed her cheek, kissing her lips when she picked her head up to meet his eyes. She cupped his cheeks and held his face to hers, dropping a hand to wrap it around him. 

His hips thrusted into her hand mindlessly. She smirked against his mouth. She continued to kiss him as she pumped him and he groaned when she brushed her thumb over the tip. “Like that?” she mocked in a sensual voice. 

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, dropping his forehead on hers. 

She pulled her hand away and he adjusted her, kissing her as he lined her hips up with his own. He thrusted into her and she let out a soft moan, digging her nails into his shoulders again. He could feel the sting from the amount of times she had done the action, but he couldn’t find room to care. 

He moved in and out of her at a fast pace, holding her thighs tight. She moaned loudly into his neck, holding him close. 

He hid face in her shoulder. She curled her fingers, her nails scratching over his back. 

She dropped her head back, a moan bubbling out of her chest. 

He groaned, kissing her shoulder. A hand moved to make a fist on the wall beside her head. His other wrapped around her waist tight. 

After some time, he moved his hand from the wall to between the two of them and rubbed at her clit. She let out a strangled cry, her face buried in his neck. She came undone seconds later, just after he had himself. 

Their brains felt like mush. They felt like bricks. Perfect for Jughead. 

~

Jughead narrowed his eyes at the landscape outside, flinching lightly when Betty waved a hand in front of his face. He widened his eyes, closing the book in his hands. “Are you okay?” she questioned, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, nodding with a sigh. “I’m okay.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m okay.” 

She nodded, smiling. “Okay,” she whispered, kissing his cheek then kissing his lips. “I’m going to go on a walk, do you want to-” 

“You go,” he answered before she finished her question. “I’m gonna stay back and read. Maybe watch a movie, too.” 

She looked concerned. He kissed her until the look melted and she was complaining about how she needs to get her exercise some _other_ way. 

He just chuckled, prolonging the kiss. She left him, holding his face steady with her hands as she climbed into his lap. 

He kissed down her jaw, neck, over her collarbone. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered and she melted. 

She tried to brush it off, telling him, “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he breathed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean it. You’re gorgeous, you’ll always be gorgeous, stunning. You always have been, honestly. There’s never been a single day where I didn’t think about you that way.” 

“Stop,” she murmured, getting embarrassed. 

He shook his head. “You deserve to hear it, Betty. I don’t tell you enough. I love you, and I think you’re amazing. You put yourself through this… willingly. You put up with me willingly. You’re a force of fucking nature. I don’t know what you see in me because I was nothing but rude to you for so long. I still sometimes and I’m ashamed of that. But you stayed. You stayed and you tried to make me better. Thank you for that.”

She picked her head up, brushing hair away from his face with tears in her eyes. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” she asked, voice faint, weak. 

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. 

“Jughead, talk to me,” she whispered and her voice began to falter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he whispered, but he didn’t try to smile or give her any more reassurance. “You know those days where you just… you know somethings going to happen?” 

Her chin trembled as tears fell from her eyes. “Jug,” she breathed, sobbing as she held him close. 

“I didn’t want to do this,” he said softly, swallowing thickly. His chest was killing him. “I didn’t want to go on a trip. I didn’t want to see the world. That was—That was a lie. If I knew I had longer to live, then it would be true. But then, when I brought this up, I thought I at least had a year. Then I saw other doctors who gave me less and less time each time I saw them.”

She buried her face in his neck, clutching to him. 

“I wish things were different, I do, but this is happening and we can’t stop it.” 

She picked up her head to look at him. He cupped her cheeks and brushed her tears away slowly. 

“I love you,” he whispered and she sniffled. 

“I love you,” she echoed, sobbing when he pulled her close. 

She could feel life leave him. His limbs relaxed and he relaxed. 

When she moved her head off of his shoulder and she met his gaze, she sobbed and covered her mouth with her hand. His eyes were glazed over, they were lifeless and completely empty. 

“Jughead,” she whimpered, closing his kids. She couldn’t continue to stare into his eyes. 

Her hands cupped his cheeks and she brushed her thumbs over his cheekbones. She moved a hand and slipped it under the hem of his shirt, setting her fingers over his heart. 

The heartbeat she listened to and felt every night was gone. For so long, she had imagined this moment. Imagined the thought of him leaving her forever. This was nothing like how she imagined. She never thought she would be in his lap when he went. She expected it to happen at night, beside him, not knowing he was gone. At the moment, that felt easier. 

But she got a goodbye, though it didn’t feel like a goodbye. It didn’t feel like enough. 

She started to cry again, her head dropping to his shoulder. Her sobs struggled to come out. Her throat felt like it was closing in on itself. Her chest felt like it was collapsing. She felt as empty as he looked. 

~

Betty clutched the picture frame to her chest. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She felt limp. _She_ felt dead. 

The responder placed Jughead on the stretcher like he was garbage. He “dropped” the body bag onto the stretcher and jerked it. Asshole. 

He wheeled the stretcher out of the room and she closed her eyes. 

_December 19th_

Alice met Betty at the hospital in Switzerland, having gotten on the first flight out. Her daughter didn’t look the same, not anymore. 

Her eyes were a cold, blank stare. Her lips were chapped and bloody from how much she had been chewing and picking them. Her cheeks were flushed from crying and her hair was a tousled mess. It was dirty as well. Her clothes were too large for her. They must be Jughead’s. 

Alice let out a deep breath, her heart breaking. She had a very subtle idea of what it was like to lose the person you love, but this was different. She couldn’t compare what Hal did to her to this. 

She moved over to Betty in the waiting room and cautiously sat down next to her. “Betty,” she tested. Betty blinked. “How are you feeling?” 

“He died, mom. He just…” Her lower lip shook and shuddered and she glanced at her mom, tears filling her eyes. “He just died.” 

Alice nodded, not knowing what to say. Betty sobbed, hugging her mom tight when she pulled her into her chest. 

_December 23rd_

Betty stared out the window of the plane, blinking at the clouds. 

He was dead. He was in a morgue and was waiting to be shipped back home. He was no longer Jughead. He was just a body. A body that once housed Jughead but was now a piece of junk. 

She could smell him on the clothes she had on. She’d often lift the hem of her shirt up, inhaling deeply. It would send her back in time almost. Always a different spot. 

Sometimes their kiss in Pops. Or when they were younger, running through the school halls even though they know they shouldn’t. Or to their first time. 

Really just anytime they had grins on their faces. 

It was nice. Most people wouldn’t want to be reminded of something they and their parted whoever they are had done together. But Betty liked it. It made her feel like he was still there and they were just going through a break. 

She glanced to the seat next to her, sighing. She would have sat there, Jughead against the window. He had never told her why he preferred the window seat, she just knew she never really cared for it. 

But now she always wanted to sit in the window seat, she couldn’t sit anywhere else. 

She hasn’t been able to show any emotion since her mother arrived. She can barely talk. 

Her tears had dried up, her wails went away, and her angered shouts towards anything were gone. She was as numb as he was, might as well be dead. 

But she can’t die and she won’t die. He had passed on far too much to her for her to just crap out on him. Plus, she thinks he’d be very, very, very disappointed in her if she even attempted to do anything to harm herself. She had decided the moment she found him dead that she would suffer. If he could, so could she. 

Life wasn’t fair. Why the hell would you create someone when you know they’ll have to die in the fucking end? Bullshit, as Jughead would say. 

_December 25th_

Betty gave her mom the largest smile she could muster. It was barely a lift of the corners of her mouth. She stood up off the ground, smoothing her hands over her pants. 

“I’m really tired,” she started, her voice so soft and hoarse it was almost inaudible. She never spoke, not anymore. She didn’t really see the point. And she was tired. She didn’t sleep much either. “I want to go back to bed.” 

Alice let out a deep breath, nodding. “I’ll bring you something to eat later for lunch, okay?” she tested, her voice steady and soft in an attempt to match her daughters broken tone. 

Betty nodded, turning towards the stairs. She took them slowly and held the railing as she climbed. If she didn’t, she was afraid she would fall. Every aspect of her was weak, frail, and brittle. 

When she got to her room, she barely had the energy to shut the door before she was crashing down onto her bed. As she flipped to her back, the ceiling spun and spun, never giving up. She closed her eyes to make it stop but tears filled them instantly. 

She gasped and forced her eyes to open, sobbing as she crawled up towards her headboard. It was terrifying. He was terrifying. She let out a guttural wail, clutching her shoulders. 

She loved Christmas at one point, but now it was a haunted day filled with terror. 

_January 10th_

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Alice breathed, shaking Mr. Weatherbee’s hand. “I know it was abrupt and last minute.” 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Ms. Cooper?” he stated and Alice shook her head. 

“Smith, please,” she sighed and he nodded, scratching something onto a paper with a pen. “And I want to re-enroll Elizabeth back into school. Is there any way that would be possible?” 

“Well, she would have to take a placement test-”

“She was here two months ago, do we really believe that’s necessary? She was in all advanced classes, weren’t you Elizabeth?” 

Betty lifted her head, moving her eyes up from the hem of her skirt to the two of them. She glanced between them, swallowing thickly. Her throat hurt. 

Her hands curled around the hem of [his] jacket, pulling it tighter around herself before she nodded. 

“See?” Alice chuckled, giving Mr. Weatherbee a kind smile. “A placement test is pointless. Just put her back in her old classes.” 

He looked between the two of them, straightening in his seat. “May I talk to Miss Cooper alone, please?” he asked and Alice scoffed. 

“That is not what we came here for,” she huffed. “Elizabeth is fine-”

“Ms. Smith, please,” he coaxed softly and Alice inhaled deeply. She grabbed her bag off of the floor, leaving the office angrily. Mr. Weatherbee watched her for a long moment. The pregnant silence between them thickened as it continued to grow and she swallowed thickly. “How was your trip?” he asked finally and she shrugged. “Can you _tell_ me?”

She sighed, clenching her jaw. She looked down at her lap, muttering, “It was fine.” 

He nodded, raising a brow. “I see you have Jughead’s jacket-”

“You want me to talk,” she interrupted and he knitted his brows together. “My mom wants me to, too. I don’t have anything to say, is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “You’re allowed to have nothing to say.” She nodded, looking back down at her lap. “Do you want to take a test to get your GED? You wouldn’t have to come back to school,” he added and she glanced up at him. “You could still go to college in the fall.” 

“Promise?” she questioned in a whisper and he nodded. “When can I take it?” 

He sighed, adjusting in his seat. “I want you to do something before you take it,” he began and she clenched her jaw, moving her eyes from his face to his desk. “I want you to talk to a counselor—even if it’s just once. I think you need someone to talk to, would you agree?” 

She shrugged. 

“I think it would be healthy. You seem to have gone through something that has made you feel like you have nothing left to say, that rarely just… happens. Most people never run out of words and I know for a fact, you tended to be a rambler,” he chuckled and she just blinked at the oak wood in front of her. He sighed, standing. “I’m going to go grab Mrs. Burble, I’ll let her continue talking to you.” 

She blinked. 

“Good,” he breathed, leaving the room. 

~

“She’s a friend of mine and she is wonderful,” Mrs. Burble preached and Alice watched her intently. Betty was caught up watching the snow drift down outside. It wasn’t a blizzard, not even a little, but watching the small little snowflakes hit the glass was calming. 

Her throat was dry and it hurt slightly. Her lips felt like they had been glued together and they hurt, too. They weren’t dry or chapped, they were just unused. Who needed them anyway? 

“Betty, sweetie,” Alice said, shaking Betty’s knee. She came back to reality, looking at the two women with an innocent gaze. “How did all that sound?” 

Betty’s mouth parted and she let out a noise. Kind of like a squeak. Kind of like a breath, a scratch, a moan, a whine. Just a noise that came from her throat as fear seeped into her expression. She felt like she didn’t belong. She didn’t belong here. She was supposed to be in Casablanca with Jughead, lying tangled together in their hotel room. 

Another noise. 

Then her jaw clamped shut and she looked away, back to the snowflakes. Too intimidating. 

“I would like that woman's number,” Alice sighed after a beat of silence. “Please.” Mrs. Burble nodded with a kind smile, scribbling the numbers on a piece of paper on Mr. Weatherbee’s desk. “Thank you,” she breathed, taking the slip. 

Mrs. Burble glanced at Betty, watching her for a moment. Betty could feel her eyes searing through her skull like she was attempting to read what was on her mind. It burned. 

She sighed after a moment, giving Alice another smile. “She seems like a very kind young woman and I know Jughead did care about her very much. He didn’t like coming around often, but I heard they were friends when they were younger-” 

“Can I go wait in the car?” Betty asked, the lump in her throat so massive she was surprised she could manage to grit out the words. 

Alice looked over at her. She looked pained for her daughter. She pulled the keys from her purse and Betty took them before she could even fully extend her arms. As she was leaving the room she could hear Alice begin saying, “Jughead is a touchy subject in our household.” 

He’s not a subject. He was somebody. _Is_ somebody. He was _her_ somebody and now he’s gone and she’ll never get to see him again because of some goddamn brain tumor that everyone knows there’s secretly a cure for. But the stupid fucking government keeps it locked away so they can drain every last penny from your pocket so your loved ones are forced to scrounge in order to bury you when you die. 

The government fucking sucks. 

~

Alice ran her hands through Betty’s hair, trying to get as much of the shampoo out of it as she could without having to pour another cup of water onto her head. 

She had found her curled up in the corner of her bathroom, not able to stand and just staring. She did it most nights and Alice was back to coddling her like a child. 

“I made you an appointment with that woman,” she started softly, regretfully pouring the cup of water over Betty’s head. “You go Wednesday morning. I’m afraid you’ll have to take the bus, though. I have work.” 

Betty closed her eyes.

“Is that okay?” Alice questioned, ducking her head to look at Betty’s face. 

She sighed softly. 

“Okay,” Alice breathed, standing. “Can you finish up here?” 

A nod. New.

“Yell if you need me.” 

~

Betty clutched the stuffed cat to her chest, staring into her vanity mirror. Her eyes filled with tears at the sight of him and she whimpered. “You're not real,” she whispered. “You’re not real, you’re not here.” 

“I am,” his voice echoed and his boyish smirk appeared on his face. “You know I am, Betty. It’s just me and you right now.” 

“This isn’t real,” she breathed, exhaling shakily. She slowly closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. “This isn’t real. I’m imagining this, it’s all in my head.” She opened her eyes and screamed when she saw his dead body hovering over her. 

Her bedroom door flung open a moment later and Alice gave her a panicked look. “Are you okay?” she questioned and Betty’s breaths came out in gasps before she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. 

_January 13th_

Dr. Celeste Anderson. She was in her late 20’s (around 27-29), engaged (from the way she described him, he reminded Betty of Jughead), went to Columbia, grew up in Riverdale, too (it’s how she knows Mrs. Burble). She likes cats more than dogs, terrified of snakes and spiders (but who the hell isn’t?), lost her mom when she was 15, mostly raised by an older sister of hers (she was the youngest; all girls). 

Betty gets to call her Celeste because “I can tell we’re going to get along.” 

We’ll see. 

“So,” Dr. Anderson said cheerily. 

Betty was wondering what it would be like to climb a tree. She wants to start climbing trees. 

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” she finished with a very nice, bright smile. 

Totally had braces, definitely had her teeth whitened. Her hair is natural, though, or her stylist isn’t shitty because her roots are actually the same color as the rest of her hair--dark brown. She wore glasses, and bracelets, and lots of necklaces. She had on a red sweater dress, a black belt, black leggings and calf-high black boots. Staple winter-woman. 

Maybe Betty was being judgemental. She seemed like a super nice woman and in any other circumstance, Betty would totally get along with her. But right now, she was only a reminder of what she could have been in her late twenties and it made her want to pull her hair out. 

She raised her brows and Betty continued to blink at her before looking out the window. Dr. Anderson’s head followed. “Do you like snow?” she asked. 

Betty nodded. 

“Me too,” she said as if she was talking to a child. It was weirdly comforting. Usually people hated that, but Betty was tired of being treated like an old woman who had lost her husband. “It’s pretty. Though, it can get yucky around this time of year, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Betty shrugged. 

“I heard you went on a trip,” she started softly and Betty looked at her with fearful eyes. “Don’t worry,” she coaxed, holding out her hands. Her nails were perfect and had snowflakes on them. Ha. “I’m not… we’re not there yet. I just want to know… you. Or who you think are, or who you think you were?” 

Betty swallowed thickly, kicking off her boots and pulling her feet under her. 

“I don’t want to know anything about that yet, okay? We’ll get there, but… right now I want you to… to talk. I haven’t heard your voice,” she chuckled and Betty clenched her jaw. “I wanna hear your voice at least once before our times up. I’ve been told you are very talkative and hyper.” 

Betty nodded.

Dr. Anderson smiled tinily. “Just tell me your name,” she whispered, sitting back in her seat. “Your full name.” 

She set her pen on her clipboard, holding Betty’s gaze. Betty swallowed thickly, letting out a slow breath. Dr Anderson raised a brow and Betty chewed her lip. 

“Elizabeth Anne Cooper,” she whispered. 

She shot up straight, leaning forward. “A little louder,” she coaxed. Baby talk was stupid now. 

“Elizabeth Anne Cooper,” Betty stated, moving her hands off of the hem of her skirt and looking up at her. 

“There,” she laughed, scratching something onto her notepad. “That’s something, you know? Now, do you think you could say something else?” 

She never said something else. They stared at each other until the timer on her desk went off. 

_January 16th_

Alice knocked on Betty’s door. She rolled over on her bed to face her when she opened it. “Veronica and Kevin are here to see you,” she whispered and Betty let out what was supposed to be a huff, but was more a silent sigh. “Do you want to see them?” 

Betty shrugged tinily. 

“I think company would be good,” she breathed and Betty tried to shake her head. Her head didn’t move. 

Betty watched Veronica and Kevin step into her room when Alice stepped aside. She felt like she couldn’t speak. She didn’t want them here. Why the hell would she want _them_ here?

“Hi,” Veronica breathed in that faux ‘I’m so, so, so sorry’ voice she would put on when she talked to old people. “How are you? I brought some muffins,” she sighed, shoving Betty’s legs to sit beside her. “They were flown in from New York so they’re, like, really, really good. You should eat one.”

Betty took one with a forced up-turn of the corner of her mouth, sitting up. 

“So, like…” Kevin started, sitting on the other side of her. “Are you all, like, depressed now? Because he’s dead?”

She swallowed thickly. “I’m fine,” she whispered, shoving a piece of the muffin into her mouth. She wanted to throw up. 

“I mean, honestly, it’s really sad that he’s dead and all,” Veronica began, brushing hair away from her face. “But, like, at least now you can be home with us. You are coming back to school, right?” 

Betty sighed, shrugging. “I-I think so,” she whispered, picking off another piece of the muffin. “I don’t know when. Right now I’m just… doing everything online when I can.” She shoved the piece into her mouth so she didn’t have to talk. 

“Were you there?” Kevin asked and Veronica gasped.

“B, don’t answer that,” she whispered, placing her hands on Betty’s arms. “He’s being rude.”

“I’ve never seen someone die before!” he exclaimed and Betty froze, collecting herself. 

Veronica glared at him. “He’s being a heathen,” she seethed with a glance at Betty. Like that would make her feel any better. “You should totally come out with us for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, my god,” Kevin drew out, nodding. “You really should. We were going to say we were going to get dinner then just go get drinks instead.”

“No,” Betty breathed, shaking her head. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?” Veronica questioned. “Getting out of the house is good.” 

“I do get out of the house,” she murmured and Kevin furrowed his brows. 

“Why are you so quiet? I can barely hear you,” he grumbled and she sighed, swallowing thickly. “But, like Veronica said, getting out of the house is good.”

“I’m tired,” Betty whispered, setting the muffin aside. 

Veronica scoffed. “You are not seriously using that excuse,” she said incredulously and Betty sighed as she laid down. “Jesus. It’s not like he was your boyfriend or something. Get over it.”

Her and Kevin left shortly after those words were spoken. Betty buried her face in her pillow, holding back the urge to scream. 

_January 19th_

“Okay,” Dr. Anderson sighed, clicking her tongue. “I heard you had some visitors over the weekend.” 

“Mm-hm,” Betty hummed. 

Dr. Anderson smiled. “How was that? How’d it feel?” she asked and Betty shrugged. “Meh?” she questioned. 

Shook her head. 

“Good?” 

Another shake. 

“Weird?”

Shake. 

“Bad?” 

A small nod. 

“Why bad?” she asked, staring at the top of Betty’s head. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered and she heard Dr. Anderson shift. 

She looked down at herself. She was in Jughead’s t-shirt (just one she had pulled out of his suitcase that morning), his jacket (she wore it with everything no matter what she had on), and his sweatpants. She looked disgusting and she was breaking out from not washing her face often enough. She didn’t have the energy after she showered. 

“They’re not good people,” she finished as she looked back at Dr. Anderson. 

“That’s understandable,” she stated with a nod and Betty glanced down at her hands. “I also heard that you… you started talking a little bit already. Are you realizing that you _do_ have something you need to say?” 

Betty nodded. 

“Do you _know_ what you need to say?” 

She shook her head. 

“Okay,” Dr. Anderson whispered with a smile. “Then that is what we’re working towards.”

Betty nodded. 

“I wanna ask you something, and I just want to… get an idea where you’re at, okay?” she questioned slowly and smoothly. 

Betty nodded hesitantly. 

Dr. Anderson sighed, adjusting in her seat. “How do you feel when you think about it? It’s okay if you have more than one emotion.” 

Betty froze. She didn’t have to explain what _it_ was. Betty knew. She knew exactly what it was. 

“Scared,” she breathed and Dr. Anderson nodded. “Mad. Sad.” She paused a beat, clenching her jaw momentarily. “Really mad.” 

“You don’t have to answer,” Dr. Anderson started, offering a small smile. “But are you really mad at _him_ … or what happened?” 

Betty stared, swallowing thickly. “Both,” she whispered, blinking rapidly for a moment. “Both.” she stated more firmly. 

“Both,” Dr. Anderson echoed. “That’s okay, it’s normal. It’s okay to be angry—at him and at the situation. It’s okay, you’re entitled to feeling that way. A lot of people are angry after something like this but they don’t want to be angry because that was the person they loved and they’re supposed to… deal with it, you know?” 

Betty nodded fervently. Someone understood. 

“Yeah,” Dr. Anderson breathed. “It’s bullshit, don’t you think?” 

She nodded quickly again. She really fucking understood. 

“They got off easy and now you’re stuck dealing with all these new emotions that you don’t understand, and you feel… you feel like you’re taking away what they went through with what you’re feeling.” 

“Yeah,” Betty sighed, nodding. 

“It’s okay to be mad at him especially. No ones going to tell you that,” she sighed and Betty watched her intently. “And no one is going to understand if you tell them that you’re angry. They’ll think you’re being selfish. But they don’t know shit, Betty. If they don’t think you should be angry, they have not lost something as big as what you lost.” 

Betty nodded.

“ _But_ ,” she continued with a pointed look. “The only way to get the anger to go away, to get the good memories back—not those last visions that I know you keep seeing of him because I saw them of my mom—you gotta tell me what happened. Or you just have to tell someone,” she explained softly. “You can’t live with it forever, that’s not healthy.” 

She moved her eyes to the ground. 

“You did really good today,” she told her and Betty swallowed thickly. “I am going to let you call me when you feel like you’re ready. I know his funeral is next Friday,” she mumbled and Betty’s head came up with wide eyes. “If you don’t call by February 4th, we’re gonna keep moving along just like this. Nice and slow. But I don’t think you want to take anything slow. You want him back, the good him. You wanna be able to talk and think about him without getting afraid, upset. Am I right?” 

Betty nodded. 

“So you call me. I don’t care if it’s at 2 in the morning and you are ready to talk then,” she continued on with a shrug. “It’s why my office is at my house. For reasons just like that. Same with if you just show up at my door. You wouldn’t be the first and trust me, you won’t be the last. But I only want you to call or show up if you’re ready to talk, okay?” 

Betty nodded, croaking, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dr. Anderson whispered, plucking a card off of the table between them and holding it out to her. “Be careful on your walk home.” 

_January 27th_

“I don’t want to identify him,” Betty whispered, looking up at her mom. “I don’t want to see him like that again,” she added, her voice breaking. 

“You have to,” Alice said, her voice and look painful. “As soon as you see him, we can go home. Let's get it over with,” Alice whispered, holding out her hand. 

Betty took it shakily, standing. They walked cautiously to the room and Betty breathed deeply as she stepped in, wanting to gag at the smell of formaldehyde. She stepped up to the table with her mom, squeezing her hand. 

The coroner pulled the sheet back. Betty didn’t last no more than three seconds before she sobbed, dropping her head on her mom's shoulder with her eyes squeezed closed. Alice nodded and the coroner did the same, covering him. 

~

“I have to run to the office for a bit,” Alice said from Betty’s doorway. 

She was clutching a pillow, her eyes staring at the wall. She was numb, terrified. The look on his face was still there. _He_ was numb, terrified. 

Alice exhaled slowly, kissing the crown of Betty’s head. “There’s money on the counter for take out if or there’s a pizza in the freezer. I’ll be back late, so if you shower, please be careful. I love you.”

Betty nodded, and Alice did the same, squeezing her arm before she walked off. She closed the door behind her and Betty let out a shaky breath. 

The room became a dark grey, overcast outside made it an ugly, terrible day. 

~

A few hours had passed and Betty had managed to get out of bed. She was sitting in front of Jughead’s suitcase and carry-on. She hadn’t been able to really look inside either. If she wanted something, she reached in blindly and hoped for the best. 

As she opened it, she kept her eyes closed and let out a long breath. When she opened her eyes, she laughed at how much of a mess it was. He couldn’t keep things clean to save his life. And yeah, she had reached in a few times, but she did not make it look like this. 

Slowly, she pulled out his clothes and started to fold them. She would dry a tear every few minutes, breathing in his scent after a few t-shirts or sweatshirts. 

She pulled out the two gift wrapped items at the bottom of his suitcase. Both were addressed to her, both wrapped with Christmas paper. Her saliva felt like wet cement and her stomach felt like a brick. 

After a few long minutes went by, she slowly tore the wrapping paper off the smallest one. She sniffled as she pulled the top of the box off, plucking the piece of paper off the top. 

_Just so you know I’m always here_ , she read and she sighed shakily, biting her lip as tears filled her eyes. She picked up the necklace, smoothing her thumb over the pendent. She closed her eyes and sniffled again, wiping her cheek as she pulled the necklace off of the card it sat on. 

Her hand held the pendent for long moments after she clasped it on before she dropped it, smoothing her hands over her thighs. She picked up the next wrapped gift, unwrapping it much quicker. 

She covered her face with her hands when she started to cry, pushing the scrapbook off her lap. She couldn’t take it.

_January 28th_

Betty sighed as she picked up her key off of her desk, tucking it in her pocket before she left her room. Her mom smiled at her from the couch. “Where are you going?” she asked nicely, taking a pause from folding laundry. 

Betty shrugged. “I don’t know,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I just… I just want to leave for a little. Get out of the house before… before tomorrow.” 

Alice sighed, nodding. “Just be home before dark, okay?” Alice murmured and Betty nodded. 

“I’ll try,” she muttered before leaving. She pulled her hat on and tucked her hands in her pockets, keeping her head down as she walked. 

~

Betty fell down onto a bench in the park past Jughead’s trailer, holding her chest as she gasped. She panted, sniffling. 

She sighed and dropped her head into her hands, pushing her fingers into her hair. She whimpered and sniffled again, breathing hard. 

She had started running. She didn’t know when, she didn’t know why. All of a sudden, she began to run. It was like something was chasing her and she needed to get away. 

She leaned back on the bench, wiping her hands down her face before putting them in her pockets. 

The park was eerie, dark, gloomy. Fog was dancing around it and she swore she felt the air get 10 degrees colder. The shift made her gasp and hold her breath. 

She swallowed thickly, starting to pant again out of fear. What was she afraid of? 

She gasped again, hiccuping in a breath as tears filled her eyes. She whimpered, biting her lip. 

“I miss you,” she whispered into the cold air, tears sliding down her cheeks after she blinked. “I want you to come back,” she continued, breathing shakily. “This isn’t fair,” she cried, shaking her head. “I loved you. I still do. And I always will.”

_January 29th_

Alice zipped the back of Betty’s dress, smoothing her hands over her arms. “Your dress seems too big,” she whispered and Betty nodded. “Did you do that on purpose?” 

She nodded. Tears filled her eyes. 

Alice sighed again, rubbing her hands over her arms again. “I’ll leave you be,” she whispered leaving Betty’s room. 

She sunk to the ground, pulling her knees into her chest and breathing deeply. She pulled his jacket off of her bed behind her, bringing the fabric to her nose and inhaling deeply. She covered her face with it, continuing to breathe in and out until she felt she had collected herself. 

She wiped away a tear as she grabbed her shoes from beside her bed, pulling them on. She closed her eyes when she stood, whimpering. 

She wanted to avoid this day at all costs. 

~

Betty was directed to a seat in the front of the building. They weren’t able to have an outside funeral, it was far too cold and they had to have it inside. 

People filled the area and another woman was directed next to her. Her eyes widened and she let out a breath, inhaling deeply. Jellybean. 

She swallowed thickly, standing up. “Betty-”

“I-I can’t…” She shook her head, hurrying away. It was too much.

~

Betty told her mom she had to use the restroom, sneaking away from the huddle Alice had made with people she didn’t even know. 

Betty snuck into the room with his casket, closing the doors behind her and letting out a slow breath. It was as nice as a wooden box being put into the ground could be. 

The heels of her shoes echoed in the room as she approached it, sniffling. She stood and blinked at it for at least 10 minutes, not knowing what to do. She was chewing her bottom lip and winced when she bit too hard. She reached her hand up, inspecting the blood on her fingertips when she pulled them back. 

She rubbed it away with her thumb, sucking on her lip for a moment. She let her eyes close as she opened the casket slowly, a tear sliding down her cheek when it was completely open. She let out a breath, opening her eyes and looking up, clenching her jaw. This wasn’t the best idea. 

She waited a few beats before she pulled her hands away, looking down at him. Her bottom lip trembled and she drew in a shaky breath, reaching in and brushing his hair off of his forehead. He looked like Jughead. He finally somewhat resembled Jughead. 

She sniffled, crying quietly as she reached in her (his) jacket pocket. She sniffled again and whimpered, drawing in a shaky breath and she fixed the hat in her hands. She carefully put it on his head, sobbing when she was done. 

“Jug,” she cried, resting her forehead on his chest. “It’s not fair. I want you back…” She drew in a breath, picking her head up and looking at his face. She cupped his cheek, her lips shuddering as she attempted to place a kiss on his cheek. She sobbed again, her breathing shaky and labored as she pulled back. “I’ll always love you,” she whispered, fixing his hair again. “Always.” 

~

The door looked weird. The trailer looked untouchable. The trailer looked like death. 

She struggled with the lock for long moments, grunting when she finally got it unlocked. She kicked at the corner of the door and it popped open. 

It was freezing inside, much the same as outside. She tightened his jacket around herself, swallowing thickly. Her hand was shaking as she set the key onto the counter and looked around the kitchen. She looked away when her eyes traced the wall he had backed her against, not wanting a tainted memory. 

She stepped into the living room, laughing at the frozen chinese take out that was stuck to his coffee table. Of course that’d be there. 

She was smiling for the first time in so long and the feeling was weird. She forgot what it felt like to have even a drop of happiness in her. 

You could see her breath in the air as she sighed, turning towards the bedroom. When she got in the hall, she glanced at the bathroom, her mind replaying their time in the shower the day he had passed. She shook the thought from her head, feeling heat spread through her. That hadn’t happened in a while—not since that morning. 

She collected herself before pushing open the door of his bedroom, tears filling her eyes. This was his space. It was as a child and it still was as a teenager. 

She sat on the bed, dropping her head as tears slid over her cheeks. The chill in the air felt the same as the chill of his cheek. He was gone and she had to admit that. She couldn’t keep living the lie that he was alive, that he would come back. That was damaging—it was hurting her more than she would admit. The more she hoped she’d wake up from whatever nightmare she had been sucked into, the more she felt sick, stranded, alone. 

Jughead was dead. 

~

When Betty came home, she sat down across from her mom at the dining table. She hadn’t eaten with her since she returned home. She hadn’t been able to eat a full meal since she returned home. 

She sighed, tucking hair behind her ear. “Can I have some?” she asked, her breathing shaky as she eyed the soup in her mom's bowl. 

Alice nodded slowly at first, then more fervently before she stood. Betty watched her as she pulled a bowl from a cupboard, filling it with soup. She walked it back to Betty putting on a small smile. 

“Thanks,” Betty breathed, picking up the spoon beside her with shaking hands. 

Alice watched her eat some slowly, smiling to herself when she continued. She felt her heart swell in her chest. It was little, but it was something. 

_February 1st_

Betty picked up Jughead’s carry-on bag, opening every pocket and dumping it out onto her bed. She set it aside, pulling her hair back before she sat on the bench at the end of the bed. She folded her legs under herself. 

She picked up his keys, rolling her eyes incredulously at all the stupid keychains. One from each place they went. She set it aside to attach to her own. 

She stacked the books he got in New York carefully. He was very particular about what he read, only certain things caught his attention. She also knew he noted every opinion he had about something that happened in a book on a sticky note. She could already see them sticking out of each book. 

She planned to read them. Not now, it may take some time. But she would read them one day, she was sure of it. 

The notebook, she didn’t touch. She closed it and set it on her desk. That wasn’t hers to read and that didn’t change because he died. It was his. 

With a sigh, she collected the tied-together stack of envelopes. She twisted her lips, undoing to the string. She sat back against her bed as she carefully opened the first one, pulling out the letter. 

_Okay, so, I either was miraculously saved and, like, didn’t die and you’re reading these when we’re super fucking old and living in Flordia because we’re constantly cold. Or I did die and you’re going through my shit and you found them. However you got these or came across them, you have to read them in order, Betts. And I know you will because you’ll get sick to your stomach if you don’t._

_But, before I start rambling about random shit, I am most likely gone right now. So I want you to know I love you more than anything. I know that this may not want to be something you want to hear because I’m gone and you think I can’t love you anymore. But even while I’m six feet under the ground, I still love you. There is nothing in this world or outside of it or wherever the hell you go when your time's up that could change that._

_I wish things were different. I wish we could have had a life together and I wish it could have been me and you against the world for as long as you would put up with me. But whoever the fuck controls me had other plans. And I’m pissed at the world for doing this to you._

_Also, before this brain tumor came in and made me a total dick, I swear I was a nice person. Sure, I didn’t have friends and I might have been a little messed up and needed some therapy, but I wasn’t as bitchy. Or cranky. Or rude. I wasn’t perfect, but I wasn’t terrible either. I wish you got that side of me. But I’m so grateful for you, you’ll never understand. And I’ll probably never get to tell you, so this is the only way I felt I could properly say goodbye._

_February 4th_

Dr. Anderson sighed, shaking her head. She had hoped for her. As she stepped towards the phone, she froze at the knock on her door. 

She stepped over to it, pulling it open and raising her brows at the sight. “You cut it close,” she commented and Betty licked her lips. 

“I’m here,” Betty started, exhaling deeply and shakily. “Jughead’s dead,” she whispered, a tear escaping her eye as she nodded. She chuckled, sniffling and trying a watery. “I wanna talk. I wanna get better.” 

Dr. Anderson grinned, her heart warming. “I’m free today for this reason,” she whispered and Betty laughed. “Come in. Sit down.” 

Betty stepped inside the familiar room, sighing. She could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this is the end. I had lots of fun writing this fic and it was a roller coaster ride doing so. I’m so glad all of you were along for the ride and enjoyed this fic. Thank you to all of you for reading this. I really hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Throughout this story, I read all of your comments (and have come to find out, I am TERRIBLE at responding though they all mean so, so much to me!) and seen all of the kudos and hits and was shocked that so many people enjoyed this story! I wrote it during a time when I wasn't in the best head space and this was the outcome. I never, ever thought this many of you would enjoy it!
> 
> I am so grateful for all of you and I am so glad so many of you stuck with me through this story. My posting schedule is horrible so if you made it through that, you are seriously a real one! I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with me.
> 
> I hope you all have a great day/night/afternoon/etc!!! 
> 
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet

**Author's Note:**

> That was the first chapter!! I’m not sure when the next part will be up (hopefully soon, fingers crossed) but as of now, it just has to be edited. I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and like I said in the beginning, any help and comments y’all have is welcome. I hope you enjoyed!!!  
> Tumblr: ultravioletviolet


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